Two Fires
by isabugg
Summary: What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place? Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! I'm Isabelle. I'm very glad you decided to give this little fic of mine a chance. Hope you enjoy your stay!**

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**_The Hunger Games_**** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

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_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

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_"Of all wonders that I yet have heard,_

_It seems to me most strange that men should fear;_

_Seeing that death, a necessary end,_

_Will come when it will come."_

—William Shakespeare

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**Part I: "The Tributes"**

* * *

It felt as if a crushing weight was posed on my chest as I laid stiffly on the mattress my sister and I usually shared, my sad attempts to get sleep only to be met by memories of hunting the day before and aggressive worries for today. My fingers stretched out for what felt like the thousandth time that night, craving my sister's warmth but only succeeding in sweeping themselves through the cold air.

With a sigh, I lazily forced my eyes to open and drift to the side, fighting the morning sunlight streaming through the tattered curtains and into my family's cottage. It casted diamond-like patterns over my mother and sister's porcelain faces, making my sister glow almost as vividly as primroses, the flower she was named after.

My heart sunk as I remembered that this year, that very name was swimming in the Effie Trinket's glass orbs, or, her scythes. They were used with razorblade smiles and static laughs during the annual Reaping ceremonies.

Of course, Prim was only entered once. Just once. But that lone strip of parchment created a shadow on the already fully din blackness of my worries.

I gripped a handful of the covers strewn across my body in an attempt to calm the newly awakened anxiety welling up inside my chest, making my throat sore as I tried to swallow it down. Almost as if my mind had wanted to add on to the anxiety, a new name arose in it, making me clench my jaw tightly together and throw my legs over the side of my bed in one rapid movement.

Gale.

It was almost funny how he had spent a good portion of yesterday's hunting time trying to comfort me when he famously maintained a striking forty-two slip count in Effie's collection of names. _"I don't understand why you always get so worked up over the reapings,"_ he had said, _"We always end up safe. It'll be just like last year, and the year before."_

I bit my lower lip before giving Prim and my mother a hasty, pained glance. Even if the reapings were taking place today, I still had the duty of putting food in their mouths. A new sense of determination washed over me in a wave as I worked my feet in the leather boots posed at the side of my bed, the material molding around them in familiarity. Besides, the thought of a little hunting calmed my restless nerves.

_Or maybe it's the fact that Gale will be waiting for you there._

Pursing my lips, I forced this thought to the back of my mind and stood up from my bed. Still slightly weakened from my fatigued state, I swiftly put my hair in a clumsy braid and retrieved my game bag from the corner of the room. I gave my father's hunting jacket a considering glance, but decided against it after another look at the sun shining over the district.

My feet casually carried themselves towards the door leading to the outside of my cottage before they came to a halt, the quiet sound of Prim's voice giving me a start and making me turn on my heel to face her.

"Katniss, are you going hunting?" Her tone came out still clouded with sleep, making a slight feeling of guilt churn inside my stomach at the thought of waking her up.

"Yeah," I murmured.

Prim let her head sleepily nod before she gave my hunting bag a thoughtful glance. "Be back in time, okay?"

"Okay," I muttered, a little quieter this time. I knew she was talking about the Reaping automatically.

She gave me a long, thoughtful look before tightening her petal-pink lips into a sheepish smile. "I don't know why I'm worried about that. Gale would never let you be late," she mused, "There's a gift on the table."

I craned my neck to look at the table almost in surprise before being met by an upside-down, wooden bowl laid at the center of it, probably to protect its contents from hungry rodents. Under it was a perfect little ball of goat cheese, wrapped in basil leaves to preserve its taste. I felt the corners of my mouth curl up into a warm smile before I turned to thank my sister, only to see that she was already well into another slumber next to my mother. A look of distress was evident on her angelic features, even in sleep. I swallowed hard before tucking the ball of cheese in my game bag and making my way out the door, taking care to shut it as gingerly as I could manage behind me.

The part of District 12 that Gale and I lived in was nicknamed The Seam, and it was usually crawling with half-asleep coal miners begrudgingly heading out for their morning shifts at this hour—their shoulders hunched in exhaustion and their knuckles swelled from overwork, the fingernails adorning them blackened from coal dust. When I had stepped out of my cottage, though, I was only met by empty streets.

I took in a fresh, deep breath of cool air, the feeling of it working its way into my lungs awakening me from the inside. My legs almost eagerly carried me to the chain-linked fence leading into the woods—a sad excuse for a security system, even though it kept most of the flesh-eaters out and most of the frightened District 12 individuals in.

Crawling under the fence had almost become natural to me with practice, to the point where I could swiftly drop to the ground, pull myself under it, and rush into the trees without being seen. It wouldn't matter if I was caught, though, even though hunting was strictly forbidden in the districts. We're all too hungry for that.

The route to the hollowed tree in which I had taken a habit of hiding my father's bow and sheath in had become so familiar to my legs, getting to it took no thought at all. I retrieved my weapons out of it with careful hands before routinely making my way to a hunting ground—our hunting ground. I felt the anxiety that had overtaken me this morning quickly diminish and be replaced with sheer excitement, my pace quickening as the strained muscles in my face relaxed. I half-sprinted through the trees, knowing that my hunting partner was probably waiting behind them.

I fought my way to the clearing and found him sitting patiently on our rock, his eyes locked on the valley it overlooked. Responding to the crunch of the leaves beneath my boots, his head instantly whipped around and his eyes met mine, a mirror of ashen grays. One of his brows sloped as his mouth pulled taut into a grin.

"You're late," he said with mock surprise, "The penalty will be severe, as I'm sure you already know, my dear Catnip."

I fought to glare at him, but felt a smile play on my lips instead. "My name is Katniss, Gale."

He let out a chuckle, his torso shaking with quiet laughter before he warmly murmured, "It's not my fault you were so shy when we first met."

My thoughts were immediately directed to the first time I had spotted this raven-haired boy, shortly after both of our fathers had died in a mining accident. Hesitant glares, intricate and beautifully woven snares, foreign footprints in the wet dirt, a gentle voice asking for my name, my own voice coming out wrangled and quiet:

_"Katniss."_

_"Well, Catnip, stealing is punishable by death, or hadn't you heard?"_

Dozens of corrections later and he was still fixated on the nickname, laughing whenever lynxes caught our trail and giving me sideways glances of amusement when they pawed at my ankles looking for handouts.

I was roused from my thoughts by the sound of Gale patting the rock he was sitting on, scooting himself over and making room for me. I made my way over to him without hesitation, tossing my game bag onto his lap as I sat myself down. "Keep up that attitude, and I'll keep Prim's present all to myself."

Gale arched a brow at me, picking up his game bag from the ground with a lank arm and bringing it into my view. "You're not the only one with treats today." We connected gazes sternly, and it only took a few seconds before he tossed the bag at me with an exhalation of something like defeat.

I caught it and felt a spongey crunch in my palms, the fragrance of fresh-baked bread wafting out of its opening and causing my mouth to flood with saliva. My eyes must have widened too, since I heard Gale try to suppress a fit of laughter.

"You're welcome," he chimed, "Now what about Prim's present?"

I wordlessly handed him my game bag, and he fished out the lump of cheese, a dreamy haze shining through the ashen filter of his eyes. "People must be feeling generous today."

Today. My face fell, thoughts of the Reapings immediately taking control of my mind and making the anxiety from earlier pulse against my ribcage. Gale, somehow able to sense mostly all of my emotions, scooted closer to me and put a warm hand over mine. "She was only entered once, Katniss." His words were monotone, automatic. He had said them multiple times before.

I furrowed my eyebrows, unable to look him in the eye. "What about your family, then? What about you?" The thought of losing Gale, the only person I could be myself with, made my pulse go into even more of a frenzy. "Forty-two isn't exactly a lucky number."

"I'm not the only one. There are plenty of people in The Seam entering their children more than that for tesserae," Gale said in an unwavering tone, as dreary and breathless as a sigh. "Calm down that pretty little head of yours."

I forced a few deep breaths in and out of my lungs, ignoring the protests of my already raw throat, a sort of sickness bubbling in my core. Gale's grip on my fist grew tighter with each passing second before he finally removed it and placed it below my chin, turning my head and making my gaze meet his. "I promise we'll all be safe."

His eyes, normally the shade of a muted smokey sky just before evening, were now flaring like hot charcoals. His hands, able to make complicated snares that were impossible for any animal to escape from, could just as effectively entrap me. My knees began trembling as I felt his warm breath blow across my face. I knew that there was no way he could guarantee the safety of everyone we cared about, but the absolute determination in his tone somehow made me believe every word.

* * *

After Gale had gone through the tedious task of calming me down, we had set off with our usual business. If he was as nervous as I was for the reaping, he was definitely very good at hiding it. His feet swift and noiseless, his aim fast and precise. We ended up filling his entire game bag and half of mine with fresh geese, and on his belt hung a few squirrels. I filled up the remainder of my bag with strawberries, the bush a blessing when we had found it.

"I think we're good for today," Gale said with a relieved sigh, plopping himself down next to the strawberry bush before hungrily tearing off a handful of the berries and popping a few into his mouth, leaves and all.

I grinned minutely before seating myself down next to him. "Two full game bags is better than usual," I noted, "Your expectations are getting dangerously high, Mister Hawthorne."

He stretched upward, the muscles in his arms flexing as he yawned. "I see nothing wrong with presuming the best," he opened his eyes into slits, "Miss Catnip." He winked before tossing one of the smaller strawberries directly at the tip of my nose. I made a low noise of disdain, and his torso was quaking with silent laughter as he leaned forward to grab it from my lap and pop it between my lips.

I chewed begrudgingly, but I found it difficult to act displeased as my teeth sunk into the berry, sweet and crisp. "We should head back soon," I lulled, swallowing. "Don't want to be..." I swallowed again, feeling as if something other than the strawberry was lodged in my throat. "...Late."

Gale must have anticipated another one of my episodes, because he shoved another strawberry into my mouth before I could continue with my thoughts. "Let's relax a bit before we go," he insisted, digging through his game bag and pulling out the bread and cheese, now cold and feathery from the geese, but still carrying a warm, floury aroma. He ripped off a piece, spreading a healthy amount of cheese onto it before handing it to me. He chomped on the other half with no hesitation.

I examined the bread he gave me before gasping with mock-horror. "You gave me the smaller piece!"

"No, I didmf," Gale said, his mouth still filled with bread. I couldn't stop the laugh that bursted through my lips with a throaty snrk, making him flash me a sheepish, food-covered smile.

We stuffed ourselves with the rare treats we had collected before making our way to the mayor's house, who had a particular fondness for strawberries and would offer a high price for them.

Madge, his daughter, ended up answering the door, much to Gale's dismay. He had always had a particular disliking for the luckier, wealthier people of our district, and he was never afraid to show it.

"Did you see her dress?" he had hissed under his breath after she disappeared into her spacious home to get her father, "All laced and pretty. Kids will die today, but at least she has her bows."

After getting a good amount of money from the mayor, we traded off the rest of our game at The Hob and split the spoils equally between us.

Gale walked me to my door and swallowed hard, wordlessly nodding a goodbye at me.

Biting my lower lip, I returned the nod with a halfhearted wave.

He looked at me for a long time, his eyes carrying a peculiar, potent type of sadness. With a sigh, he turned around. "Wear something pretty," he said flatly over his shoulder, leaving me stricken as he tromped away.

* * *

My mother, Prim, and I took turns helping each other get ready. I had to wash the sweat and dirt that had collected on my skin from hunting away in a tub of lukewarm water while my mother and Prim promptly started putting on their dress clothes.

My skin prickled with a muted burning sensation as I scrubbed myself down, observing with pinpoint eyes as my mother slipped into an old burgundy apothecary dress that grabbed tightly to her hips and flowed downward like a tablecloth. It was when I had rinsed the soap out of my hair that I noticed Prim in my first reaping outfit, looking horribly lost in the starchy frills and tatting.

Her spritely body was barely big enough to hold the fabric upward, and it was only after a merciless amount of pinning and tucking by my mother that it looked halfway decent. Prim studied herself in the mirror, and as she turned, I noticed a bunch of fabric sticking out of her skirt like a duck tail.

I dried myself with a thin cloth, feeling cold even though the weather outside was muggy and balmy. The dress my mother had chosen for me was powder blue with cuffs that were shaped like bells and a ribbon that laid almost parallel to my collarbone. It felt stiff, and as I worked my feet into the matching shoes and fastened the dainty buckles underneath my toes, I silently wondered if this was Gale's definition of pretty.

After a small meal of nuts and flavorless, slightly soured yogurt from Prim's goat, I looked out the window and noticed the floods of blank faces slowly making their way to the square, carrying the grim air of a death march.

"We all better get going," my mother muttered after a few moments, absently getting to her feet and letting her gaze rake over Prim and I once more with thin, pursed lips. Her cheeks carried a slight redness to them, and I wondered if she had pinched them to make herself look less downcast.

My gaze wandered to the side, catching the back of Prim's blouse, the fabric again stubbornly jutting out. It was with reflexive movements that I tucked it back in with unfeeling fingers. "Tuck your tail in, little duck."

The minute I stepped outside, my gaze was directed to the many camera crews perched on top of buildings and around the square. I paced myself towards the crowd, feeling my pulse quicken with each shaking step. My deep breaths were failing to calm me down, and it didn't help when Prim and I were separated, her having to go with the twelves and me with the sixteens. We were all organized by age, oldest to youngest, and the families had to solemnly frame the perimeter of the area.

I gave the stage in front of me a hard stare, a lump forming in my throat as my gaze landed upon the two glass balls positioned side-by-side at the center of it on bronze-plated stands. One contained all the boys' names and one contained all the girls'. I creased my eyebrows in worry knowing that Gale's forty-two slips of paper were sitting in one of them, and that Prim's single slip was floating around in the other.

A cold chill ran down my spine despite the warm afternoon air before I planted my feet in the organized crowd of sixteens and forced a mask of determination to cover my features.

All too soon, Effie Trinket made her appearance on the stage, sporting a ridiculous bubblegum pink wig, laced upward with a sort of flossiness that made it seem more like fluff than hair. She acted as if she had gotten a huge applause, booming with fake laughter and practically dancing to where her microphone was.

"Happy Hunger Games!" she called out, amplified by the microphone posed in front of her. Her voice screeched through the square with an echo, making each body around me visibly tense.

"I will be picking two lucky people today to participate! Ladies first!" She began to giggle madly as she placed her hand on one of the glass balls, causing the cinematographers to zoom their cameras hungrily onto the stage in anticipation. "And may the odds," her hand violently spun the ball it was on, making it creak unsettlingly on its stand, "be ever in your favor!"

I watched as her palm slapped itself against the hard surface of the glass ball, making it squeak to a sudden stop before she slipped her wrinkled hand into it and pulled out a small, rectangular slip of paper. Effie's eyes, framed with pink makeup, swept over the name before her smile broadened to reveal her whitened back teeth. There was not one sound from the crowd as she inched herself closer to the microphone, reading the name eagerly into it.

_"Primrose Everdeen!"_

It was as if everything in the world ground to a sudden halt. I could hear my own frantic breath whistling in and out of my lungs and echoing in my strained ears. I saw the sullen faces of the crowd, frozen like the cold stone of statues, simultaneously turn themselves in search of the unlucky girl who just had her fate sealed. Their movement seemed effortless, and yet my entire being felt like it was nailed to the ground. I slowly became aware of the violent spasms my muscles began to give in to, the trembles pulsating through my body as I forced my head to turn in the direction of the twelves.

There she was, her already fair face drained of color, and her arms stiff and clenched at her sides. Her movements seemed to be robotic and she clumsily made her way through the crowd, everyone separating to get out of the way.

My chest started to burn, scorching my insides and sending my heart into my throat as I watched my sister begin to mount the stage, forcing a look of bravery to twist her sweet, angelic features. Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision as I tried to make my legs move. They stayed limp in their place, my already slightly buckled knees struggling just to hold my frame upwards.

My gaze became more and more panicked as Prim inched herself closer to the stage. And then I saw it: the bunch of fabric from her blouse, the loose cloth dangling out the back for all to see. Her duck tail.

It wasn't even a question; there was no way I was letting my sister get shipped off to the games. I pushed my way through the crowd in front of me, forcing their frames away with violent shoves. Some of them attempted to hold me back as I sucked in a sharp breath of air, burning my already sore throat, and yelled out the words already formed on my lips. _"I volunteer!"_

Everything fell silent for a moment, and I looked frantically to both sides before swallowing and staring back at the stage. This time, my voice was unshaken, unmistakable. "I volunteer as tribute."

There was a slight disturbance in the spectators, but I ignored it as I raced in front of Prim and pushed her to the side, as if I was shielding her from an oncoming wave of bullets.

"Oh, excellent! Just excellent!" Effie Trinket's voice boomed into her microphone and throughout the square, silencing everyone. "I think this is the first volunteer we've had in District 12! A milestone, indeed!"

Prim's desperate cries soon filled the air without a moment's hesitance, interrupting Effie's eager rampage as she dug her petite hands into my sides. "No, Katniss, _no!_"

I refused to meet her azure eyes, and instead locked my gaze on the stage in front of us. "Let go, Prim," I said as stiffly as I could manage, but she was unaffected. Her tears dampened the back of my mother's gown as she gripped me around my torso, holding me back from the steps I needed to take. "_Please!_ You can't, Katniss! _Don't leave me!"_

I felt her little arms raise off of me in that second, causing me to involuntarily turn around in surprise.

Gale was struggling to contain Prim in his tensed arms, her thrashing limbs hitting him occasionally in her reverie. His eyebrows were furrowed violently, and his lips were mashed together as if he was holding back from something he desperately wanted to do. With a deep breath, he choked out, "Up you go, Catnip."

I gave him a forced nod before turning on my heel, trying to hold myself together as I took the stage. Effie pounced over to where I was standing before chiming, "Hello, dearie! What's your name?" She held the microphone insistently under my chin, and I mustered up what little strength I had left to speak into it. "Katniss Everdeen."

Effie let out a theatrical gasp, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. "Another Everdeen? I bet you're Primrose's sister! Didn't want to let her snatch up all the glory, huh?"

I tightened my lips in an attempt to hold back the pained grimace threatening to take over my features, studying the crowd through slitted eyes—empty pallors washed away of emotion instead of faces, stiffly set shoulders, lips so bitten that they were swollen.

"Well, well, well!" Effie lilted, a slight note of agitation in her voice in response to my silence, "That's the kind of spirit we need in The Hunger Games!" She took big strides toward the front of the stage, raising her free hand up in the air as she spiritedly yelled, "Let's give a big round of applause to our newest tribute, Katniss Everdeen!"

I snapped my eyes tightly shut to prepare for the applause that would follow, but it never came. It was with hesitance that they opened again, only to see that not one individual had made a move to clap. They all stood in silence, blankly staring.

The only movement visible was that of a left hand moving to a spectator's mouth, receiving a light kiss before going skyward. Another came, and then another, filling the air with a sea of fingers. Soon the entire crowd was holding up their left hands, in praise, in respect—for me.

It also held a harsher tone, one of disagreement and rebellion. One that represented the everlasting oppression that hazed our district, one that sternly whispered both a farewell and a curse.

I spotted Gale in the crowd, stern lines etching his face as he held his up higher than anyone. In his other arm was a very weak Prim, limply holding up her hand, her tearstained eyes never leaving mine.

The lump in my throat grew bigger, a pressure building behind my eyes, making my vision blur. I caught sight of one of the many cameras around me, and desperately tried to hold it together.

Not waiting for everyone to put down their hands, Effie made her way to the other ball, her face flustered as she stammered into the microphone. "Well, uh...This is interesting! A lot of firsts in this year's Reaping!"

The white robes of a group of Peacekeepers caught the corner of my eye, and I instinctively turned my head in their direction, only to see that their faces were unfamiliar. They weren't from this district. They were sent specially for the Reaping. My heart began to pulsate more painfully as I darted my attention back to the crowd, who were all still rebelliously holding their hands up to me. My chest heaved.

"Let's get this over with!" Effie said, her voice struggling to keep its usual exaggerated timbre as she caught sight of the Peacekeepers. Without missing a beat, she spun the boys' glass ball before clumsily pulling out another slip of paper, smoothing out the surface across her lap before moving towards the microphone. I didn't even have time to hope that it wasn't Gale before her voice boomed across the square, announcing the name. "Peeta Mellark!"

I stared wide-eyed into the crowd, now biting my tongue for fear of crying. My eyes swept over his blond head, and a crushing thought weighed itself in the pit of my stomach. I _know_ him. A baker, about my age, and the son of the man my mother had rejected in her youth for my father. I quickly thought back to the time he gave me bread when I was in my weakest, hungriest state, but before he could even take two steps, I saw Gale step forward from where he was already positioned at the front of the crowd, pushing Prim gently behind him. She looked lost, shell-shocked, unknowing of what to do.

"I volunteer as tribute." His voice, calm as it was, echoed throughout the square. It was with restrained vigor that he mounted the stage, the bow of his shoulders so strained that he was at the point of shaking. He walked slowly up to me, and I stared with eyes shining with tears as he lost all control and engulfed me in his arms.

That was when the crowd got rowdy, pushing each other around and yelling obscenities up at Effie, threatening her and the Peacekeepers around us.

Gale's arms tightened around me, his breath hot at the top of my head, and I vaguely registered quiet and incessant apologies slipping through his lips before gunshots pierced the air, slicing through the once determined protests and turning them into bloodcurdling screams.

I widened my eyes, a strangled, sick noise tangling itself in my vocal chords. "Gale," I started, feeling a creeping, ghoulish coldness at the base of my spine. The screams were met by the clear-cut sound of metal slapping against flesh, bones cracking. "Gale," I repeated, feeling queasy and paralyzed, as if my muscles had turned to ice and my stomach into bile.

A faint sob wavered in his chest.

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**You might notice some parallels right now. Trust me when I say that this story branches off from the original quite a bit later on!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Many thanks to everyone who is reading.**

* * *

**_The Hunger Games_**** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

**_What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?_**

**_Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen_**

* * *

_Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm._

My thoughts were frantic, desperate. I was minutely aware of the hot tears rimming my eyes, the almost arthritic pain in my joints, my gaping mouth. My lower lip viciously quivered as if bracing itself for the scream brewing and boiling in the pit of my stomach.

_Stay calm._

"Haymitch! Do something, you useless drunk!" I heard Effie Trinket wail from my side, her heeled shoes clacking loudly against the hollowed surface of the stage in time with my rabid pulse. I heard the two glass balls that were once positioned neatly at the center of the stage fall on their sides, the shards forming a sharp, crystal pool around my feet.

"Bah!" A gurgled grunt, slurred and drawled, gave me a slight start. "Why don't _you_, ya old hag? I stopped carin' about the tributes a looong—" He hiccupped. "—time ago." A splash of liquid hit the ground, room-temperature droplets spraying my ankles.

Effie let out a loud screech, dripping with annoyance. "I know where you get your booze, Abernathy, and I _swear to God _I'll_—_"

"Okay, okay! Sheesh, woman," the man grumbled in a gravelly tone before letting out a loud belch. It felt as if in the next moment his glare was burning into my side, causing me to uncomfortably crane my neck to peer under Gale's arm only to see a drunken, elderly man make his way up the stage with a bottle of unidentifiable alcohol in his swelled fist, spilling all over the front of his dress shirt and the stage as he stumbled over his feet. I felt a flare of recognition at the man's aged appearance. Haymitch Abernathy—one of two District 12 victors that we have had in the past seventy-four years. The only one alive.

"C'meeere," he hissed under his alcohol-tinged breath before reeling himself toward Gale and I, "Ya're juss a bunch o' regular ol' idiots, aren'tcha?" He threw a hand up in the air and made it land across my shoulders, giving me a start.

"Less get goin' to th' Justice Building before ya cause any _more_..." Haymitch paused, silently thinking for a word. His eyebrows furrowed, the loose skin of his forehead wrinkling like leather. "...mishap!" he finally yelled triumphantly, his arm around my neck shaking me from side-to-side in celebration for his small victory.

My muscles seemed frozen in place as Gale slowly lifted his head from my hair, his eyes slitted, glinting like blades. "I don't recall ever saying you could touch her."

The wetness that I felt in my scalp after that indicated the presence of tears in my hair, and I felt my eyes widen at the thought. I've never seen Gale show even a slight sign of weakness, and the moment he does, we just so happen to be broadcasted all around the country.

"Oh?" Haymitch said with a tinge of amusement in his tone, his eyebrows raising as his mouth hung open like a fish out of water, "We got a feisty one! And here I thought that you were..." He let another pause stretch out the already strained conversation. "..._soft._ All blubberin' on national TV." He let out a low bellow of laughter.

Gale's frame instantly stiffened against mine, but he remained silent, choosing instead to direct his attention to what became of the spectators in front of the stage. His grip around me tentatively loosened, and I gently nudged myself away.

My face blanched with such intensity that I could _feel_ it—the muted prickles of blood leaving my face, draining, leaving me lightheaded and sick. I was only allowed a split second to look at the scene before Haymitch clumsily turned me away, but it had already burnt itself into my vision like a morbid watermark.

The paved ground was spread with smears of red, and at the end of the messes laid the occasional body—bodies of the people who were too slow, who were abandoned and trampled over by the others who wanted desperately to get to the safety of their homes. Peacekeepers, their white uniforms now spattered with blood, scooped several of these corpses up at a time before tossing them into a single pile, as if they were throwing away bags of garbage.

I felt a scream build up behind the tangled muscles in my throat, my chest heaving. It wasn't much of a challenge to elbow Haymitch out of the way and direct my attention to Gale, his face a single contorted pallor of sickly shock, so strong it stuck to his features like multiple interweaving scars. His Adam's apple quivered in his gullet as he brought a stone-stiff hand to his mouth, and without thinking, I grabbed it with my own. Our fingers tangled in a knot that was more painful than it was comforting before he turned to me and whispered in a voice that sounded like a strangled, breathless snarl: _"Vick."_

I raked my blurred gaze to the side, seeing a tiny figure sprawled out on the ground, looking like he was stopped in his tracks on a frantic trip back to the cottage with his family. He was laid out on his stomach, a petite arm held outstretched in front of him, his fingers bowed and hooked as if they were stepped on. Vick, the second youngest in the Hawthorne family. I swallowed hard in an attempt to force breaths out of my now tightened chest, choking as if my lungs were filled with water.

A sound caught in Gale's throat—sick, stifled, croaky. I was suddenly overcome by a desire to take his colorless face into my hands and lug him off into the woods to run away, to forget about the games and the Peacekeepers, but those thoughts were almost instantly interrupted by a faint flutter of relief I involuntarily felt in the pit of my stomach. It was because _my_ family—Prim, my mother, even the baker's blond son—had all escaped unscathed. And yet Gale, who had done nothing wrong, would live with the image of his younger brother strewn across the paved ground for the rest of his life, weighing him down like a sack of stones on brittle bones. The guilt I felt after this realization hit me like a slap to the face, and it didn't help that Gale's eyes swept over and locked on mine with the unyielding trust he always gave to me that I never deserved.

I inhaled sharply, feeling dizzy. My feet had unconsciously carried me closer to Gale, the hurt twisting his features beckoning me forward.

"_Them_," he suddenly hissed, stopping me dead in my tracks. His expression hardened to steel in a matter of seconds as he swept a heavy glare across the stage toward Effie and Haymitch. "Were two deaths not _enough_ for today?" His silver eyes raked over to the group of Peacekeepers still busy with their pile of corpses, pure hatred hardening his irises and making me wince. "Hell, were_ twenty-three_ deaths not enough for today?!" He was referring to the rest of the tributes, all freshly reaped, their faces revealed to the Capitol on shining television sets. _Only one survives_, I remembered, and I felt unsteady on my feet.

"Get used to it, fruitcake," Haymitch grumbled, giving me a start. He carried a sudden sense of soberness about him. "This sight—the bodies, the loss. Get used to it."

I felt my face twist into an enraged grimace at his words. Almost on cue, the Peacekeepers filed on stage and grabbed all of us by our forearms, startling Gale and causing him to begin taking blind swings at them with unyielding fists, only to have more Peacekeepers restrict him. The blood that soaked certain parts of their white uniforms made my nose flare and my throat churn as I was roughly dragged forward, hearing Haymitch's drunken protests as he was hauled behind me.

I've seen this happen before in the previous Reapings. Not _exactly_ this—they usually just marched the tributes to the Justice Building—but I guessed that the circumstances pushed them to extremes this year. I felt my muscles tense as the image of Vick's corpse filled my thoughts again.

A row of Peacekeepers at the front kicked open the door to the Justice Building before hoisting me inside, and the distant sound of Haymitch's slurred babbling made me assume that Gale and him weren't far from joining me. I silently wondered where Effie had gone off to as I hastily took in my surroundings, the plush carpet and cream-colored walls surprisingly different from the intimidating outside structure. The stuffed furniture was made entirely with velvet, something usually too luxurious and rare for District 12, and on each ceiling hung a sparkling chandelier of great size.

"Take the boy into Visiting Room B," one of the Peacekeepers ordered in a far-off voice, nodding towards the opposite direction I was heading and making panic rise in my throat. I silently watched out the corner of my eye as Gale defeatedly let himself be led into a spacious hallway and out of my sight.

It wasn't until we arrived at a door with a sign that read "Visiting Room A" that I was finally let out of the Peacekeepers' iron grips, only to be tossed into the room before they promptly turned on their heels and left in a single, hauntingly synchronized wave, one sticking behind to guard the entrance. I clumsily steadied myself on my feet after my harsh entry before whirling my head around to glare at the single Peacekeeper posed at the outside of the door. I quickly contemplated if I could outrun him and make it to where Gale was before getting caught, deciding against it after a few strained moments; I had heard enough gunshots for today.

With a sharp breath, I let my feet automatically drag themselves to the opposite end of the room. It was filled with only a red, velvet-covered couch and three cherrywood chairs. I seated myself onto the cushions of the couch with a plop, the soft texture of the fabric underneath my fingertips giving me a slight feeling of comfort, a slight solace in a sea of worry. My visitors would be issued in any minute now, as per tradition.

The muscles in my throat contracted together as I swept my fingers through the velvet more fiercely, shaking my head in an attempt to clear my thoughts. I couldn't afford to let myself become undone here; not only would it hurt my family, but it would also cause me to greet the cameras waiting at the train station with reddened eyes.

I tried to trail my thoughts away to a different subject in an attempt to clear my head, and they ended up finding their way to Gale—his stricken features on the stage and that one throttled sob, muffled as if spoken into a bottle and so tremendously filled with pain. My hand swept through the air and landed on a velvet cushion posed at the side of the couch, and I immediately clutched it to my chest in an attempt to hold myself together.

"Katniss Everdeen, your first visitors have arrived," the Peacekeeper announced in a gruff voice, snapping me out of my reverie. I raised my eyes and tried to desperately drain the look of pain out of them as I watched my mother and Prim stalk into the room, sporting identically blank masks as their gazes raked over me.

"Honey..." my mother choked out, disregarding the chairs in front of me and seating herself next to me on the couch, sweeping stray strands of hair out of my eyes. She opened her mouth as if she was going to say more, but snapped it shut and instead continued to sweep her clammy hands over my face. Her movements were robotic, tired. I bit my lower lip before nodding in her direction, determined to not let any sign of emotion show.

Prim made her way over to us before climbing onto the cushions and gripping my forearm tightly. "You and Gale are really loved in the district," she announced in her tremulous voice, threatening to crack the mask covering my strained grimace, "That's why everyone started protesting. No one wanted to lose either of you."

"...Oh," I responded lamely after a few moments, lowering my eyes and concentrating them on individual fluffs protruding from the carpet.

My mother let out a pained laugh, making me clutch the velvet cushion tighter into my chest. "We all know about how you two felt about each other, too," she started, making me shoot her a confused glance, "You both participating in the same games was just too much of a tragedy for the crowd to bear."

I swallowed hard, my already uneven breaths becoming even more shaky. I was sure that their words were meant to comfort me, but they only seemed to make the pain in my chest even greater, to the point where it was almost unbearable. I needed to stop it, so I instantly changed the subject to the things they needed to take care of in my absence.

I stressed that Prim was not to take any tessarae, no matter the circumstance, and that they would need to get by on the spoils from the milk and cheese from Prim's goat and my mother's small apothecary business instead. I told them read over my father's herb book if they could, to study the pictures, and pick any that they could find on the outside borders of the fence. I didn't mention hunting because it didn't seem like an option—even if Prim had the necessary skills, she wouldn't be able to bring herself to shoot at a defenseless animal; she would end up insisting on taking it home as a pet instead.

"...You need to stay in school, Prim. No matter how hard it gets," I continued, locking my eyes on hers and making sure that she understood, "Gale will provide anything you ca—" My eyes widened in realization before my tongue instantly became limp in my mouth, making my sentence drift off into gibberish.

No, he wouldn't. He'll be off in the arena with me, putting his life on the line instead of staying in District 12 where he was needed to feed our families. Because he _volunteered._

Every event that took place this afternoon washed over me in a single wave, weighing down in the pit of my stomach and sending my pulse into a flurry of emotions—remorse, despair, grief...But most of all, anger.

How could he _volunteer, _when he knew full-well that it was synonymous with death? Now not only will I be gone, but _him _too!

I was only slightly aware of Prim's tiny hands grasping frantically at my cheeks as I felt all the welled up emotions in my chest burst in one fluid motion, sending my muscles into spasms as my hands flew to my throat in a struggle for air.

"_Katniss!_" my mother bellowed, her insistent hand grabbing my chin and forcing it to turn so that I was looking at her. "We. Will. Be. Okay. Do you _hear_ me?" Her sudden determination caught me by surprise, making my eyes widen involuntarily in her direction. "I want you to worry about nothing but _surviving_ from here on out."

A strained silence filled the air for a few moments afterwards, my mother's crystal blue eyes seemingly being dusted from the cobwebs collected over the years and revealing the fierce woman my father fell in love with. She let out a sigh before letting her hand drop to her lap and mumbling, "Really, Katniss. Have more faith in me. I raised _you_, after all."

I stared blankly in my mother's direction, dumbfounded not only by her sudden outburst, but also how it had succeeded in comforting me. My lips pursed together, and before long, words were tumbling out of my mouth without my permission. "I love you. I love you both, and I'll miss you so much."

My mother and Prim prepared themselves to say it back, only to be interrupted when a Peacekeeper swung into the room and ordered them out, stating that their time was up. They begrudgingly got to their feet before heading out of the room and shutting the door behind them, leaving me to gaze blankly in their direction, still dumbstruck by the fact that my mother had seemed to develop an uncharacteristic backbone in seconds. Maybe the thought of me being sent to my death finally awakened her.

My fingers dug themselves deeper into the velvet cushion as I let out a groan, my breaths getting increasingly more difficult to force out with each passing second.

"Katniss Everdeen, your second visitors are here," the Peacekeeper announced, immediately causing my eyes to dart up in confusion. I had thought that Prim and my mother were my only visitors.

"Who...?" I muttered in a light voice, only to be answered when two men with identically stocky builds from lifting and tossing flour bags hesitantly made their way into the room. I instantly recognized the older one to be the baker I had heard stories of from my mother and the younger one to be his son. The one who was reaped before Gale—volunteered.

I winced at my own thoughts. The word _volunteer_ had begun to stung.

"Katniss," the younger one started with a brief nod, brushing a hand through his yellow hair before seating himself down on a chair. Once he was settled, his eyebrows flew upward and his eyes widened. "O-Oh wow, sorry, I should've started by introducing myself. You probably don't know me, but we go to school together. My name is Pe—"

"Peeta," I finished, his name bursting out of my lips before I could stop it. "I know you."

His eyes were the clearest shade of blue I've ever seen, even rivaling with Prim's, and they flashed with a sort of ardency as soon as I spoke. His father awkwardly sat in the chair beside him before catching my attention with a loud grunt. "For you," he mumbled, holding out a neatly packaged box in my direction.

I tentatively reached my hands out and took the box from his grasp, flipping the top open and immediately being attacked by the sweet fragrance of cookies, something I usually could never afford—a luxury. The scents of melted chocolate and sugar dizzied me. "Thank you," I murmured under my breath, my eyebrows furrowing. It was still hardly believable that they had even taken the time to visit me, let alone give me one of their most expensive goods. "...But you don't—you don't need to feel...responsible."

Peeta and his father seemed to straighten up in surprise in sync.

"Responsible?" Peeta echoed in bewilderment.

I winced slightly, tucking the top securely back into the box. "I mean...You're only here because Gale volunteered for you. It's appreciated, but," I swallowed hard before holding the cookies back out to them, "it's unnecessary."

We sat in silence for a moment, and I watched Peeta's chest fall with a hardy sigh. "I guess we should've visited him, too, huh?" His father nodded silently beside him, the box of cookies hovering in my hand between us.

"What? You didn't...?" I trailed off, and Peeta began sputtering in a hurry to explain.

"I mean, maybe we'll go after this, but—" He directed his eyes harshly to the floor, the tips of his ears turning red. "But...I really, my dad, too, we...We wanted to say goodbye. To you. Not out of thanks. Or pity." He directed his blue eyes back at me, looking through his thick fringe of eyelashes. "But out of...friendship?"

My mouth tightened quizzically, and it was with shaken hesitation that I brought the box of cookies back onto my lap in silent acceptance. "...I didn't know we were friends."

Both the Mellarks suddenly looked at me with an expression filled with sad wistfulness, and I stiffened. Peeta took a deep breath before mumbling, "I didn't want our first conversation to be like this."

I saw a flash of hurt shadow across his father's features out of the corner of my eye, making me direct my attention to him before he quickly raised his voice with a sudden burst of authority. "We'll look after the girl. Make sure she's fed."

I instantly gathered that he was talking about Prim, and I felt the muscles in my face relax. It reminded me of how the people in my district were particular fond of her, and how they would never let her go hungry if they could do something about it. I felt some of my worry lift away.

The Peacekeeper made yet another appearance, much to my dismay, and led Peeta and his father out of the room before sending in my next visitor, who also took me by surprise.

"Madge? What are you—"

She interrupted me halfway through my sentence by taking bold strides across the room and throwing a golden mockingjay pin in my direction. It landed lightly on the cookie box. "Every tribute needs a token," she mumbled flatly, as if it would explain everything.

I gingerly picked up the pin before studying its intricate details—the carving of the feathers in its wings, its thin beak, the curious arrow that framed everything together—before shooting Madge a confused look from under my eyelashes. "But why...?"

She exhaled sharply before kneeling in front of me and forcefully pinning the mockingjay onto my dress, taking my face into her insistent palms before looking at me straight in the eye. "Because I said so," she proclaimed, frowning, "You try your absolute best, you understand? You're coming home; you are the only person keeping me sane at school." Her blue eyes flared with a strange amount of confidence as she mashed her lips together, waiting for me to respond with words as equally powerful as hers.

I gulped and instead replied weakly with a, "I'll try." It would've been easier to answer if my best friend wasn't participating in the same arena. I creased my eyebrows together, making it a point to not make any promises.

After staring into my eyes for a bit, perhaps studying them to see if my words were genuine, she casually walked out the door. The Peacekeeper eyed her confusedly as she took her leave before her time was up, but didn't question it.

"Those are all of your visitors, 12. We'll take you and the other tribute to the train station as soon as he's done with his," the Peacekeeper announced in a droning voice before strolling away from my open door and leaving me in silence.

Madge's insistent demands echoed in my ears, lingering in the air around me. It was almost funny how she had meant for her pep talk to make my chances stronger, when in reality, it had only made me silently make an agreement with myself.

I won't be coming home. Gale will.

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**It would mean a lot if you reviewed!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for reading!**

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_**The Hunger Games**_** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

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_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

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My fingers were gliding themselves so roughly through the velvet fabric of the couch that I wouldn't have been surprised if it bursted into flame from the friction. I choked out a shaky sigh through the tangled muscles in my throat before setting aside the box of cookies placed on my lap and burying my head in the velvet cushion, the dense fabric partly suffocating me as I desperately tried to gather comfort from it.

I felt so helpless, so useless, diluted to the point where all I could do was sit and wait. I kept unconsciously replaying the moment Prim's name echoed throughout the square in my mind, how she had to muster all of her strength just to pull her color-drained body towards the stage through the displeasured crowd. The look on Gale's face as he rushed towards me, how he had engulfed me in an embrace more powerful than all of our past ones combined, his single sob that could still be heard as clear as day in my eardrums. Vick's body, along with the rest, most of them innocent youths from my school with legs too short to get away in time. The genuine look of remorse on Peeta's face, Madge's unrelenting faith in my ability to come out as a victor, how my mother and Prim were still holding onto a foolish thread of hope when I had already decided on my fate—

A startling scream of frustration escaped my lips as I threw the pillow across the room, knocking down a cherrywood chair with a muffled thump on the plush carpet. My hands found their way over my mouth as I desperately tried to hold back my emotions that were now bursting at the seams, suddenly hyperventilating as all of my held back rage and sorrow tumbled out of me at once. My heart began pulsing at a frightening rate as all my reasoning slowly began to diminish. All I wanted was Gale. Despite everything, all I wanted was to have that same warm feeling in the woods this morning grasp my heart again, telling me that everything was going to be all right, and somehow making me believe it.

I felt tears stinging my eyes as I tried desperately to untangle the contracted muscles in my throat. _"Gale!"_ My own shrieking startled me as it echoed throughout the vast space of the Justice Building. I saw white uniforms hastily flow in my direction outside of the doorframe, and knew instantly that Gale wasn't coming. I expected to be tranquilized, only to wake up on a train already on my way to the Capitol. I tightly shut my eyes, trying to calm my breathing, accepting my fate.

Only, the tranquilizers never came.

_"Katniss?!"_ Gale's gruff voice called down the hallway, his footsteps uncharacteristically loud as he pushed past the Peacekeepers in front of him. He didn't stop until he was right in front of me, grabbing my shoulders and instinctively searching my now wide open eyes for an explanation. "Are you okay? What did they _do_?" His ashen eyes were flaring with urgency, the protective sense flickering behind his irises already making me begin to feel at ease.

Before I could think my actions through, I wrapped my arms around Gale's neck and roughly pulled him closer, my panicked fingers wildly in search of something warm and comforting.

It seemed as if not even a second passed by before the Peacekeepers were tugging at Gale's shoulders, trying to pull him away. "I guess this means you're done with your visitors, Hawthorne," one mumbled through barred teeth with acute agitation.

Gale thrashed against their demanding grips, his frenzied eyes still quizzically studying my expression. Without thinking, I reached toward him, and the sight of my outstretched hand must've caused him to viciously stand up and elbow the Peacekeepers away before fighting his way back to me. It was with exasperation that one of the Peacekeepers proclaimed, "Just let them go to the train station together."

The other Peacekeepers obeyed, dropping Gale without a second thought and coolly heading for the door.

"Follow us. Quickly." This Peacekeeper's voice stood out from the others'. Perhaps it was the pity evident in it—how he knew that the two tributes in front of him, both not able to be separated for long periods of time, were going to have to deal with the inevitable loss of the other in the near future.

I didn't let these thoughts bother me. I was caught in the moment with Gale, now releasing all of the cooped up emotions that had been boiling in my core for what felt like years. I tugged him close by his sleeve, resting my head against his chest as I allowed myself to greedily take in his warm, familiar scent of pine and wood. His arms wound around me for just a moment before he moved his hands to my sides, half-picking me up and landing me on my feet.

He looked down at me with an expression that was murky, a sad sort of amusement. "I know you can't keep your hands off me, Catnip, but we better get going."

His teasing tone immediately roused me, all the reason I had lost earlier now flooding back into my brain. I stepped away from him stiffly.

My silence made his half-playful expression fall as quickly as it appeared. "Why did you call me? Did they hurt you?" The sincerity in his tone only made me feel more guilty about disturbing his time with his visitors.

I shook my head, holding my breath and trembling at how close he was. "I really...I don't know what happened," I muttered, darting my eyes to the side. Gale's confused gaze felt as if it was boring into the side of my head, and I exasperatedly added, "We should go."

I turned on my heel and clumsily hurried out the door, feeling queasy and confused and, most of all, exhausted. The sound of Gale following me made an unwelcome feeling of guilt well up in my chest, causing me to want to hurry back and mend whatever damage I had possibly done. Instead, I kept my eyes glued in front of me, determined to keep a steady pace until we reached the Capitol car meant to take us to the train station.

My thoughts had never contained anything concerning Gale other than what we hunted that day, or if our spoils were as up-to-par as they usually were. Occasionally, I would allow myself to get caught up in his stupidly perfect features, but it never escalated to me not being able to control myself. The pure need that I felt for Gale in my visitor room frightened me. It only reminded me of the fact that most of the tributes who participate in the games lose themselves, forgetting about everything they learned about being sane, humane—about being themselves.

Would I lose myself in front of Gale? Would all the death and struggle around me drive me to the edge? I'm a naturally hostile and aloof person, so it's not like I would have a generous demeanor to hold me back.

We both silently piled into the Capitol car, the back seat uncomfortably cramped after our bodies had taken up what little space it offered.

A couple minutes passed before my eyes unconsciously found their way to Gale's face. He was staring out the window, his strikingly pure eyes watching District 12 fly away behind us. His lips were pushed together into a stern line, making his dimples prominent in his rigid cheeks. Every curve, every freckle, every scar, the shape of his entire figure became so familiar to me over the years that we had known each other. The fact that I could confidently say that I knew him the best out of all the girls he had wrapped around his finger was somehow comforting.

I watched as his eyes suddenly darted from the window to me, making me jump slightly in my seat. I immediately expected him to begin teasing me, like all the other times he had caught me staring at him, but his expression just grew more solemn.

"I need to say something," he muttered sternly, turning his head fully in my direction before resting it on his hand.

My eyebrows raised in his direction before I let out a strained sigh. "I'm really sorry about interrupting your time with your visitors—"

"No, no, no. Not that," he cut in, locking his silver eyes onto mine before continuing, "I really couldn't care less about that."

Those words were all it took to send my pulse into a frenzy again. "What, then?"

"I want you to know that no matter what happens in the arena," Gale started, his irises suddenly filled with the same unrelenting urgency that I had seen back in the Justice Building, "I will _not_ let anyone lay a _finger_ on you. You're coming home, Katniss."

"No," I blurted out without thinking, my eyes widening as I slowly took in his sudden assurance, "You can't possibly think that I'd _let_ you."

He let out a light groan before chuckling. "Of course not. That's why I'm going to have to try extra hard," he whispered. He almost smiled before the reality of the situation visibly hit him. It was with slow, fluid motions that he unconsciously scooted closer to me, his arm moving to rest on my shoulders like a shield.

I opened my mouth to protest, only to be interrupted by the car suddenly stopping. The locks clicked open in the doors before they both flung open, instantly revealing Gale and I to the cameras. The flashes startled me, making my eyebrows fly up in surprise. I glanced at the screens around the train station only to see Gale and I looking extra flustered instead of ready to be broadcasted, and how close he was certainly didn't help.

My cheeks were burning, making me lose my focus. Gale ended up having to grab my hand and lead me out of the car and down the path to the train, blindly flashing undoubtedly breathtaking looks of confusion in random directions and making all the Capitol women swoon right where they were standing.

I silently fumed with humiliation as I followed him, my head down to hide my face.

We came to a stop at the doorway of the train, having to allow the cameras to gobble up our images. I let out a strangled breath as Gale dragged me to his side and wrapped his arm around my waist, looking uncharacteristically natural posing for the snapshots. We stood there for a few minutes, Gale looking positively dazzling while I stood awkwardly and pigeon-toed beside him.

Gratitude flooded into my chest when we were finally allowed inside, the door closing mercifully behind us and the train moving without hesitance. The speed startled me at first, but I quickly became accustomed to it.

I gave Gale a sideways glance only to see that he was now desperately trying to stifle down fits of laughter.

"What?" My voice came out squeakier than I had intended, making even more blood rush to my face. It felt as if I was positively scarlet.

His hands flew up to his mouth before he bursted with laughter, making a big show by keeling over and grabbing his stomach.

"_What_?" I felt more a pout—of all things—form on my face as I realized that my voice came out whinier than usual, causing Gale to begin loudly guffawing.

I stood there in silence until he exhaled loudly and wiped a tear from his eye. "You did wonderfully, Catnip. I can't wait to see the playbacks," he said with a playful grin.

I was almost relieved when I saw Effie Trinket turn the corner and make her way over to us, her heels clacking against the train floors. "Get ready for supper, you two! Go to your chambers and wash up!" She proceeded to push Gale and I in opposite directions before grabbing me by the shoulder and mumbling in my ear, "I'm sure your friend can find his way without any problems, let me lead you to yours. It can also be a great opportunity for girl talk!" The last part of her sentence came out obviously louder than she had meant, causing her to quicken our pace.

I glanced over my shoulder, and my look must have been pleading because Gale looked back at me confusedly.

Effie and I walked without exchanging any words for a while, the clicking of her heels becoming the only sound filling the expansive halls. She let out a prolonged sigh, perhaps thinking over her words, before looking me straight in the eye under her bubblegum pink wig.

"Katniss dear, you and Gale either have to stop what you're doing or go all out." Her words were rushed and simple, but it was all I needed to start fuming again.

"And what do you mean by _that_?" I wanted my tone to come out harsh, but it was more high-pitched and forced. I was thankful that Effie ignored it.

"Haymitch and I were talking. We both noticed that you two have this sort of...bond," she cleared her throat uncomfortably, directing her attention to smoothing out her button-down shirt, "This will either be very good at getting sponsors, or very bad. It just depends on how you two play things out."

I gave her a skeptical glance, finding it hard to believe that Haymitch could have that kind of conversation with anybody. "What are you saying?"

Her hand found her forehead before she dramatically groaned, as if I was asking too much of her. "You two either have to act as lovers, or pretend to not be concerned with each other's presence at all. The former will be very intriguing to the Capitol people, as it has never happened before, so I recommend it."

I pursed my lips in confusion. "Lovers?"

A hint of a smile played on her lips. "Yes, you two are doing fantastically so far. We would just have to step it up a notch by the time interviews with Caesar come around, which is still a fair amount of time away. I just wanted to prepare you."

I found myself getting annoyed. Who was she to tell me that Gale and I weren't even free to broadcast our honest relationship? "Would this be a group decision? Or is it between me and Gale?" I asked, almost mockingly.

Effie stopped me in my tracks before placing her hand on my shoulder, as if she expected it to offer me comfort. "It's all up to you, dearie. Haymitch and I are confident that Gale will play along magnificently with any decision you make. It seems that he can be quite a natural in front of cameras if he wants to be."

I conjured up the most convincing glare I could. "And how do you know that I won't tell him about this conversation the moment we're together again?"

She faked a smile, obviously beginning to get aggravated by my constant questions. "I really don't care! Haymitch and I are your mentors, and if you don't want to accept our help, so be it."

Effie pointed me in the direction of my chamber, confident that I wouldn't get lost, and stalked off without another word. I listened to the echo of her pointed shoes as I studied the doors surrounding me. I finally found one marked with a sheet of paper reading "Katniss Everdeen," and wandered into it.

The chamber contained a personal bathroom, bedroom, and dressing area. The drawers located in the dressing area were luxuriously filled to the brim with clothes, all to my disposal. It was all overwhelming, specifically the hot and cold running water in the private bathroom. We didn't have hot water in The Seam unless we boiled it.

I lazily kicked off my shoes before peeling off my mother's dress, carefully folding it before laying it on top of one of the dressers. I unhooked Madge's mockingjay pin from the soft fabric and carried it into the bathroom where I undid my mother's braid, now considerably ruined due to today's past events. The shower made me curious, so I carefully hopped into it and played with the controls, coming out smelling like a mixture of flowers. After drying myself thoroughly, I drifted over to the dressing room and picked out slim-fitting pants and a dark green top. My dangling hair bothered me slightly, so I carelessly tied it up before pinning the mockingjay back onto the side of my shirt. I silently hoped that Madge could see that I was wearing it back at home.

Effie Trinket came to collect me for supper, leading me throughout the narrow corridors until we reached a dining room with paneled walls. I felt my face brighten at the sight of Gale waiting for us at a table.

"Want to bet that the food here is nothing compared to my mom's roasted rabbit?" he asked, giving me a weak grin before patting the empty chair next to him.

"_Nothing _is better than Hazelle's roasted rabbit," I replied in a quiet tone, struggling to return his grin before making my way over to the chair and tentatively seating myself into it.

Effie sat across from us before daintily spreading her napkin onto her lap and darting her bright eyes around the room. "Have either of you seen Haymitch?"

"Yeah. It's almost impressive how drunk he is," Gale said with a light groan, "He said something about getting some rest before dinner. Ended up taking two steps before he settled on just sleeping out in the hallway."

Effie let only a slight look of disgust twist her features before she shrugged the thought away completely, seeming sincerely relieved at Haymitch's absence. I couldn't blame her.

Supper was served in courses—thick carrot soup, green salad, lamb chops, mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, and a frosted chocolate cake. It was the best thing I had ever had the pleasure of tasting, and Gale seemed to almost guiltily devour it as if he agreed. The memory of insisting that Hazelle's food was better made his guilt spread to me, but I pushed it to the back of my mind as I attempted to stuff all that I could down my throat.

Effie indifferently picked at her food, constantly reminding us that there was more to come. Once the meal was over, my stomach felt as if it was bursting at the seams, and I had to struggle to keep all the food down. Gale was clasping his stomach and resting his head on the table, much to Effie's displeasure, so I was sure that he was having the same problem. Our stomachs weren't used to such rich fare.

After the table was cleared, we went to another compartment to watch the recaps of the Reapings across Panem. I found it difficult to watch as the names were called, how the tributes would hesitantly step forward or, more often, try to hide themselves in the masses.

The tributes from Districts 1, 2, and 4 seemed almost eager to take the stage. They contained what we called the Careers, the fortunate people from richer districts where they trained their children for the games. I studied their faces carefully, noting to stay away from them as much as possible, specifically the more cruel looking two from District 2. I silently hoped that they would kill each other off before Gale and I needed to get involved.

A girl with a pointed face that looked a lot like a fox's from District 5 seemed to almost slither up to the stage after she was called up. Even in the spotlight, she seemed wily enough to hide from the cinematographers. This immediately set me on edge.

And most hauntingly, a twelve-year-old from District 11. She acted much like Prim had, struggling to put on a tough face as she mounted the stage, except when they had asked for volunteers, everything fell silent. No one was willing.

When they got to District 12, I felt myself tense up in my seat. I watched as Prim was called, and held my breath when I saw how positively desperate I looked when I shoved her behind me and volunteered. I watched as Gale tentatively pulled her off me before Effie energetically yelled my name into the microphone. The crowd's refusal to applaud caused the commentators to fall into a confused silence. I swallowed hard as Peeta's name was drawn, and allowed myself to take a quick glance at Gale sitting across from me as his voice echoed throughout the square on the television screen. His eyebrows were furrowed above his pained gray eyes as he watched himself climb the steps, engulfing me as soon as he had mounted the stage.

I felt relief flood in my chest as I saw that it had cut off at that moment instead of lingering and showing the destruction that had taken place afterwards. It was probably because they didn't want the people of Panem knowing about the violence that the Peacekeepers were capable of, but even so, their ignorance seemed easier to handle at the moment than living through the experience again.

The Capitol seal flashed on the screen for a short moment before they cut to clips of all the tributes arriving at the train station. The Careers were celebrating, even going as far as to skip down the path to the train and boom with laughter. Most of the tributes settled with uncomfortable smiles as they walked past, much like Gale had when he dragged me alongside him. The commentators took a long while laughing over how I couldn't even look at the cameras, at how my face was painted red and how Gale himself looked a bit flustered as we hurried toward the train. They cut to the anthem before the screen went black and the program ended.

Effie pursed her lips before directing her attention towards me. "See how they're presenting you two? Remember what I told you, Katniss."

Gale gave me a confused look, and I ignored it by hastily darting my gaze to the floor.

* * *

**I tried to change the mood a teensy little bit in this chapter. c:**

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

**_The Hunger Games_**** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

"Mind filling me in?" Gale asked suspiciously, his ashen eyes gliding over to mine.

I opened my mouth to reply, the movement an unconscious reflex, before Effie shot me a warning look so intense that it felt as if it burnt into the side of my head. "Remember our _agreement_ too, dearie," she stressed, making my words catch in my throat and remain unspoken.

Gale stiffened, his eyebrows creasing together as he quietly gathered that I wasn't going to answer him. "What, are we keeping secrets now?" he demanded in a tone edged with skepticism before shooting Effie a piercing glare, only to have it returned to him with equal potency by the pink-haired mentor.

I shook my head frantically in response, when in reality that was exactly what I was doing—keeping a secret from him. "I _want_ to tell you, but—"

"But what? Are you and Effie Trinket _pals _now? I suppose you'll start talking like her too; we've definitely gotten enough practice from our impressions in the woods," he shot back, making me involuntarily wince into the cushions of the couch I was sitting in.

"Impressions? Care to elaborate?" Effie cut in, making me shoot her a glare as sharp as daggers. It seemed as if she was simply unable of keeping her lipstick-lined mouth shut.

"Why can't we just tell him?" I asked, ignoring Effie's last question completely and earning a scowl from her. She leaned forward in her chair before theatrically rubbing at her temples and defeatedly stating, "Because we would want the act to be at least a _little_ convincing. Him knowing would lead to him being less genuine."

"Act? What are we acting out, precisely?" Gale asked, his gaze raking over to Effie and locking on her with hardened irises.

"Something _complicated_, and something that would increase the amount of sponsors you both get dramatically," Effie stated in a matter-of-fact tone, her nose threatening to point in the air in her reverie.

Gale's features twisted into a look of utter confusion. "Shouldn't I know about it, then?"

"Well," Effie started, making me stiffen, "According to Haymich—"

"What? _Haymitch?"_ Gale didn't even try to suppress the fits of mocking laughter that followed. "That drunk? He can't even hold himself steady on his two legs, forget about holding up his side of a serious conversation!"

Just then, Haymitch staggered into the compartment, still sporting the clothes he wore to the reaping and reeking with the scent of alcohol and sweat. "I miss supper?" he asked in a slurred tone, grabbing onto the doorframe for support as he struggled to stumble over to us. Even if he was far from sober, it was apparent that he wasn't as drunk as he was when we had last seen him.

As soon as this thought left me, he clutched at his stomach and proceeded to vomit all over the expensive carpet, his knees buckling and causing him to fall into the mess.

Effie let out a disgusted shriek, her hands flying up to cover her nose before she clumsily got to her feet and dashed out of the room, taking care to space herself away from our drunken mentor by several unnecessary feet as she hissed out various insults at him.

For a few moments, Gale and I just took in the scene of our mentor hopelessly trying to lift himself up from the vomit, only to succeed in rubbing the vile fluids all over himself and onto nearby tapestry.

"...Well," Gale choked, "I take it that that means Effie was lying to us about Haymitch having a part in the act." He thought for a moment, furrowing his eyebrows at me. "Whatever it was."

The scent of vomit quickly wafted around the compartment, threatening to make my dinner come up. "We might as well do something," I said before exhaling sharply and tentatively covering my nose with my hands, "He's all we've got in the arena, after all." I had to take a moment to muster up the courage to near Haymitch before begrudgingly getting to my feet and working my way over to him.

Gale followed behind me, taking initiative and bravely picking Haymitch up by his right arm out of the mess. I took his left before we both brought him to his feet and half-led half-dragged him to his compartment. He continued to confusedly ask about what happened and why it smelt so bad in a slurred, hardly intelligible tone as we walked.

Gale seemed to have a sense as to where his compartment was, so I just followed. We soon found ourselves hauling our mentor into the bathtub and sitting him down underneath the shower head, taking care to make sure that he didn't hit his head on anything. I turned on the water, only to startle him for a moment before he simply fell asleep.

Gale took a deep, strained breath before detaching the shower head and spraying it all over the front of Haymitch's clothes, slowly rinsing everything away. "I'll wash him up if you promise to tell me about whatever Effie told you later," he muttered, gradually turning increasingly more green at the sight in front of him. It was surprising; he had seen much more stomach-turning things in the woods.

"I was planning on telling you about that, anyway," I murmured, turning away from the bathtub and instead letting my eyes focus on the expansive mirror above the sinks. Even though I had just showered a few hours ago, my hair had already begun to stray out of place. I unconsciously smoothed it back before continuing, "And we could always just get one of the Capitol people in here to take care of him."

"Don't," Gale immediately responded, his tone slightly darkened.

I had half-expected him to get a mischievous glint in his eye at the thought of getting a small form of revenge on the Capitol people for sending us here, but his response didn't exactly surprise me.

"I just don't want them anywhere near me right now," he explained, fiddling with the controls on the shower wall and engulfing a still fully-clothed Haymitch in purple bubbles. "The Capitol thinks that they're free to do whatever they want and take away whatever they want, and they don't give a _damn _who it affects." The scent of lavender filled the bathroom.

He exhaled sharply before fastening the shower head back where it was, leaving the water on to rinse Haymitch, and turning to face me. "I've been wanting for us to escape ever since we were reaped," he muttered, his eyes like great gray storm clouds, "I know we could do it. Together. I've been looking for chances, but they really do pull out all the stops for these things."

I swallowed hard, thinking of the few other times Gale had suggested running away with me back when we were hunting. "We wouldn't be able to go back to the Seam, you know that. They would hunt us down. We're important to them now that we're tributes," I responded halfheartedly, feeling a lump lodge itself in my throat.

Gale's unbroken, determined gaze told me that he had expected that reaction from me. "True," he sighed, "That's why I've been going with my other plan to make sure that you win."

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, feeling my body stiffen. "What am I compared to you, Gale? If you just look at this with an open mind, you would see that you're more valuable than I am," I huffed, words tumbling out of me before I got a chance to think them over, "I should be the one protecting you! I should be the one helping _you _become victor! You should just be worrying about yourself. Fending for yourself, hunting for yourself, not worrying about me. I'll just be there to kill off whoever tries to hurt you, and when the time comes..."

Gale undecidedly inched closer to me, gingerly wrapping a firm arm around my waist.

"When the time comes, I won't hesitate to drive a knife into my chest."

Gale's gentle hold around me immediately became tight and forceful at my last words. "Don't be stupid," he said through barred teeth, pulling me closer to him. "Do you really think I would let you? Even if I did somehow become victor, do you really think I would be able to live normally? Even the thought of you dying just...," his sentence drifted off before his hold on me became even tighter, "I really don't know when it happened, or how, but you snuck up on me. Ever since I was fourteen, I—"

I returned his embrace, just as forceful as his had been. "You would get over it," I took a deep breath before continuing, "Trust me."

Gale began to relax in my arms, his suffocating hold on me slowly becoming loose again. "I wouldn't. Ever," he mumbled under his breath, barely audible.

"Hey...! You two...!" Haymitch's voice roused us both, causing me to instantly bring my arms back to my sides. He helplessly squirmed in the tub, sending bubbles and water splashing over the sides. "I'm _drownin'_ here! You trying to kill your mentor?!"

Gale turned his attention back towards the bath tub and rushed over to turn the water off. Haymitch's body had blocked the drain, and the water level had risen all the way up to his chest. In his drunken state, Haymitch was struggling to keep his head above the water, sinking into it occasionally.

"Why are my clothes all wet? Are you stupid or something, boy? If you're going to clean me up, do it right...!" Haymitch began to clumsily unbutton his shirt, revealing the vomit that had slid under his clothes.

I felt myself blanch, and a smile broke through the look of disgust Gale sported once he saw my reaction. "I'll take it from here, Catnip."

Without another thought, I hastily turned on my heel and hurried out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me dizzily.

I aimlessly wandered through the rocking corridors, feeling the guilt of leaving Gale behind to wash Haymitch, before finally stumbling upon my chamber. I flung the door open, only to find that it was too dark to see anything, so I settled with clumsily finding my way to the bed and plopping myself blindly into it.

Ignoring the many nightgowns the drawers carried in my dressing area, I slid myself under the thick comforter and laid my head on a feather-filled pillow, several other cushions spaced out around me. The immediate warmth the comforter gave was almost suffocating, so I settled with tossing it off fitfully and trying to relax myself in the cool air of my chamber, wrapping my arms around a nearby pillow and letting the train slowly rock me into oblivion.

* * *

"Wake up! Up, up, up! Don't be lazy!"

Effie Trinket's trilling voice echoed throughout the corridors of the train, rousing me from my sleep.

"It's going to be a big, big, big day!"

Big day? I let myself stir around, sleep still clouding my thoughts, before it hit me: opening ceremonies. They included each district's stylists completely dictating how their tributes looked before sending them off to the Training Center on individual chariots in one unnecessarily flashy show that indicated our arrival to the Capitol, and usually happened the night after the reapings—today.

I felt hardly rested enough to even open my eyes, but despite this, I forced myself to sit up with a strained groan, only to find thin green sheets that were obviously not from my bed messily strewn across me. I regarded them quizzically before finding that the parts of my body that it had not covered were icy to the touch, making me grateful that they were there.

With a lot of effort, I slid myself off of the bed and begrudgingly padded my way over to the bathroom, rubbing my eyes in an attempt to make myself more awake. I splashed my face with water and rinsed out my mouth before deciding to redo my hair. I quickly tied it up again, not bothered enough to take the time to do my normal braid, and ambled out the door.

Once I had entered the paneled dining room, Effie brushed passed me with a cup of black coffee, seething under the calm exterior she was desperately trying to maintain. She had her back turned to Haymitch, who goofily smiled and waved me over with a red, swollen face from his alcoholic indulgences the night before. Gale was concentrated on the food in front of him, leaning slightly away from the mentor he was sitting next to as he ate.

I seated myself in the wooden chair next to Gale, and was immediately served with an enormous platter of food containing eggs, ham, and piles of fried potatoes. A bucket of chilled fruit and a basket of bread rolls sat in front of us, and we all had a cup of juice, coffee, and what I thought to be a thicker, lighter coffee.

I poked at it curiously, causing Gale to explain, "They say it's hot chocolate. Too sweet for me."

I hesitantly brought the cup to my lips, and a pleasant shudder ran through me. "It's _really_ good," I whispered enchantedly with widened eyes, taking more sips of the creamy liquid.

Gale chuckled before gently pushing his cup towards me. "You can have mine, then."

I drained both of the cups before directing my attention towards the food in front of me. I avoided the rich stuff, wanting to fill myself up with as much as I could, and ate until it felt like my stomach was going to burst. My eyes unconsciously drifted to my side, only to see that Gale was still shoveling his food down and that Haymitch was thinning out his juice with a bottle of clear alcohol.

Part of the reason why District 12 hardly ever win the Games is because we only have one victor to guide us, and that victor decided long ago to spend the rest of his days drunken and useless. It was very often that I had seen him in The Hob practically throwing his riches away in exchange for bottles of white liquor, completely indifferent toward his future or his health as he chugged the alcohol down.

I gave the bottle in Haymitch's hand a glare before deciding that, in order to get Gale out of the games alive, I was going to have to whip our mentor into shape somehow.

"So, how about some advice for the arena?" I asked Haymitch, trying to act as patient as I possibly could.

"Advice?" he mused, bringing a hand up to stroke the coat of peppery stubble across his chin, "Okay, here's some advice..." He leaned in closer to both me and Gale, causing the red, tainted juice in his glass to splash droplets onto the white tablecloth below us. After a few moments of strained silence, he blurted out, "_Stay alive!"_ Fits of laughter rolled out of his chapped lips as he spilt more of his drink around him, making my eyes narrow into slits in his direction.

I exchanged looks with Gale and immediately saw the rigidness that had formed behind his ashen irises. After a silent agreement passed between us, he stood up from his seat and whipped the glass out of Haymitch's hands in one fluid motion, making it shatter onto the floor. Haymitch paused for a moment, taking time to take in his drink that was now soaking into the carpet, before swinging a fist at Gale, only to miss and tumble out of his seat. The mentor struggled back onto his feet and threw himself onto the table in an attempt to swipe away his bottle of liquor, but I had grabbed a knife from the silverware next to my plate and reflexively jammed it into the wood before he could, right between his fingers. The knife quivered in its spot from the sudden force.

"Oh?" Haymitch squinted at the knife before letting his gaze sway over to me. "Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?"

I felt the corner of the lip quirk up as I watched Gale's once thoroughly agitated features twist into a smirk, a glint becoming evident in his silver eyes.

"Can you hit anything with that knife besides a table, sweetheart?" Haymitch asked, pulling himself off of the table and straightening his back. It was as if his once careless demeanor was transformed into a studious one within seconds.

I pursed my lips, knowing that a bow was my ideal weapon, but also knowing that in order to get Haymitch's attention, I needed to prove that I was notably skillful with handling knives as well. Without a second thought, I swiftly yanked the knife from the table and threw it from the blade, hitting a wall across the room with force and causing a good stick between two panels.

Haymitch raised his eyebrows, possibly impressed with my aim, and proceeded to push me to Gale's side. He studied our faces and prodded our muscles, nodding to himself. "You two are in good shape. You do sports?"

"Hunting," Gale stated, his tone tinged with pride.

Haymitch mumbled to himself under his breath, pausing to inspect Gale's face before proceeding to punch him square in the jaw.

Gale took a few steps back from the force, whipping a hand up to his cheek before lunging himself at Haymitch and grabbing him by the collar. "What the _hell?!"_ His eyes flared with fury.

"What was that for?!" My voice was shrill as Gale and I both prepared ourselves to team up on our mentor, only to be stopped when he raised his hands up in immediate defeat.

"Sorry, sorry! Sheesh, you two are touchy," Haymitch said exasperatedly, pushing a now confused Gale off of him. "His face was just too pretty. A nice, fresh bruise would imply that he got into a fight with another tribute. That'll toughen up his image."

I felt myself relax, the adrenaline that had suddenly appeared in my veins gradually diminishing as I began to see Haymitch's logic. Gale is broad-shouldered and muscular, and can put on an intimidating face when he wants to, but despite all this, he was born with good looks that often made people underestimate him.

"...Oh," Gale rubbed the cheek that Haymitch assaulted thoughtfully, "This better end up being a good-looking bruise, Abernathy."

Haymitch gave Gale a skeptical look. "Listen, you still need to look pretty. Capitol people are shallow and are usually generous to attractive tributes. Otherwise, I would be busy beating you two senseless right now," he inhaled sharply before studying both of us again briefly, "Okay, I'll make a deal with you both. I'll stay sober enough to help, but don't interfere with my drinking." He gestured to the red stain and shattered glass on the carpet behind him. "That was mean, what you did to my drink. Her name was Betsy. We got along well."

Gale opened his mouth to counter, but Haymitch dismissively shushed him by raising a finger to his lips. "You also need to do exactly what I say. No questions."

"Deal," Gale blurted out impulsively, "So, once we get sent to Cornucopia, what do w—"

Haymitch shook his head. "Too soon to be asking about that! For now, just worry about your little makeovers. They're going to do things to you and you won't like, but just go with it. Go with whatever they do, no complaints."

I immediately had a problem with this. "But—"

"No buts! No questions! That was the deal!" Haymitch stalked off toward the table we were sitting around before grabbing his bottle of white liquor from it and casually walking out of the room without another moment's hesitation.

I groaned before exchanging a pleading look with Gale, the already yellowing bruise on his jaw catching my attention. I couldn't help but reach a hesitant hand out to touch it with my fingertips. He winced at the contact, but eased himself into my hand anyway.

"It's looking pretty bad," I mumbled, my hand unmoving.

"Good," Gale said, grinning down at me.

The light streaming in from the windows of the train suddenly cut off, leaving Gale and I in the dark.

"We're probably passing through the mountain range right now," I mumbled, feeling uneasy about the miles of rock separating us from the sky.

Gale must have sensed my uneven breaths, because he moved closer and wrapped two tentative arms around my torso. I removed my hand from his bruise before he gently pulled me closer to his chest, his natural scent of pine prevailing through the fake flowered scents from the soaps of the showers.

Then, too soon, light flooded into the room again and the tunnel trailed away behind us.

I looked to my side, only to see the glistening, rainbow-hued buildings of the Capitol tower outside of the windows. The sky was an azure blue, so deep that it almost looked fake. The cars rolling beside the train were waxed and sparkling, all bright in color and capable of great speeds across the shining, paved roads. All the colors seemed artificial, too bright and vivid to be natural.

I instinctively buried myself deeper into Gale's embrace, his familiar figure comforting against mine. He rested his chin on the top of my head, still gazing outside the windows. "I really hope our stylists don't make us go nude."

* * *

**Twist ending? Twist ending.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I should send you all edible arrangements (the little flower things made of fruits) for putting up with me. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

_**The Hunger Games**_** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

The reaction was instantaneous; Capitol civilians, catching sight of our train rolling into their streets, stopped what they were doing and gathered around it, reaching up toward the windows, blowing kisses, and shouting out greetings in their altered, high-pitched voices. I felt my face twist into a grimace at their excitement to see us arrive, knowing that their admiration was only because they couldn't wait to watch us kill each other off.

Gale tightened his grip around me. "Don't glare. They might be useful soon," he murmured into my hair. One look at his clenched teeth and creased eyebrows told me that he was battling the same loathing toward these people that I was. Maybe even moreso.

I took deep, controlled breaths in an attempt to calm myself as we stood in silence, ignoring the calls of delight just outside the windows. Some of the voices stood out from the crowd as they pointed out the two of us in each other's arms inside the room, followed by somewhat scandalized squeals. That just made brushing them off all the more difficult.

We both seemed to relax as soon as we pulled into the station and out of sight. Gale took a small step back and pulled away before giving me a comforting grin. "Well, at least we didn't start yelling insults at them," he said before jokingly patting the top of my head.

"Probably not going to get us a ton of parachutes in the arena, though," I chortled halfheartedly.

I felt the train gradually slow down its speed, causing me to lose my footing a little and grab on to the front of Gale's shirt, who seemed to have a solid stance. His comforting tone almost instantly turned into teasing laughter. "You should really stop throwing yourself at me, Catnip. People might get ideas," he said with a toothy smile.

I was prepared to shoot him a piercing glare, only to look up and see a flash of realization flicker behind his eyes. "Remember our deal last night? I would clean up Haymitch if you told me about what Effie told you?" He asked, shooting me a look of urgency.

My eyes widened at him before a feeling of uncertainty instantly welled up in my chest. I knew that I had promised to tell him, but was it really the smart thing to do? There was a chance that it would do nothing but make him feel uncomfortable, and even strain our friendship right before the Games. The last thing I needed right now was another thing that would get in the way of our performance in the arena.

I hesitantly opened my mouth to answer, only to be interrupted when the train suddenly stopped completely in its tracks, sending both Gale and I tumbling to the floor. I ended up landing on top of his chest, causing him to let out a quiet _oomph_ in surprise before chuckling breathily. "We really should have been sitting down," he murmured before absently reaching a hand out to brush the hair out of my face.

I was about to get to my feet when two of the panels at the far side of the room began to slide open, once again revealing us to the flashes of many undesired cameras.

"We really should have been prepared for the cameras, too," Gale sighed, propping himself up on his elbows and ignoring the squeals of the Capitol women outside the train.

Effie strided into the compartment before stopping in her tracks, slowly taking in the scene of me being photographed on top of Gale. Haymitch followed carelessly behind her before pausing where she had and bursting with laughter. "I leave these kids alone for five minutes, and now look!"

The crowd outside seemed to thicken within seconds, causing me to visually tense up before clumsily jumping to my feet and directing my attention to smoothing out my shirt in hopes of hiding the inevitable blush pooling in my cheeks. I quickly snuck a glance down at Gale, silently hoping that he was already up and explaining the situation. Instead, he was still spread out on the floor, giving me the same look of urgency that he had been earlier.

"What did you and Effie talk about?" Gale whispered pressingly to me. "You can tell me. Quickly."

Before I could answer, Effie rushed over to my side and grabbed me by the forearm before leading me outside the train and into the crowd of cameras. I heard Gale let out a loud, exasperated groan behind me.

* * *

"It was supposed to be a GRAND entrance to the Capitol, Katniss! _GRAND_!"

Effie still had a stiff hold on my forearm even though we had passed the cluster of cameras long ago. Her long, manicured fingernails had begun to dig into the sleeve of my sweater.

"Sure, the whole flustered act was likable when we were boarding the train, but this was different! This was you first setting foot in the Capitol!" Her voice got increasingly more shrill with each footstep we made towards the Remake Center, where my stylists would begin changing everything about the way I looked. The room Gale was being taken to couldn't be too far from mine.

"I'm sure the other Districts' tributes looked absolutely dazzling when the doors opened in their trains!" Effie let out a prolonged sigh, rubbing her right temple with her free hand. "I hope you know what this means, dear."

I responded with a quizzical look, feeling slightly irked from not being warned about the cameras earlier.

Effie pursed her lips, slowing down her pace and lowering her voice to a whisper. "The whole '_lovers act_,'" she theatrically bent her two of her spindly fingers in air-quotes around the term, "you have to go along with it now. You two have already been exposed that way across Panem. In order to work this to your advantage in the arena, you have to start playing your cards right."

I swallowed hard, instantly annoyed by Effie's bold words. "Where did this idea of yours come from, anyway? Gale and I already know you didn't have any help from Haymitch."

"At first, I didn't," Effie said in a defensive tone, "But it seems like a light flickered on inside of him since breakfast. He wants to be _useful_ now. When I told him about what being star-crossed lovers in the Games would do for you two in terms of sponsors, he completely agreed with it."

I pursed my lips, responding to her with silence. As much as I hated to admit it to myself, she was right. People from the Capitol were bound to love mushy romance stories, and they would absolutely go crazy over one appearing in the games.

Once we had neared a carved, wooden door marked "District 12" at the side of the Remake Center, Effie let go of my now sore arm. She gave the door three swift knocks before it was instantly opened by three animated stylists.

"Oh dear God," the plump, green one shrieked, slapping a hand over her mouth, "so much work needs to be done on this one! Look at that _hair!"_ The two other stylists, also deeply surgically altered, enthusiastically nodded in agreement.

Effie let out a high-pitched giggle before turning on her heel and waving behind her. "See you soon, Katniss dear!"

The stylists all quickly introduced themselves as Venia, Octavia, and Flavius. They seemed to move in the same spritely way as they dragged me inside the Remake Center, immediately stripping me completely and seating me down in a chair where they proceeded to pour hot wax over my right leg.

The woman named Venia whipped out a piece of fabric and pressed it down on the wax before it cooled, ripping it off and tearing the hair out from beneath it. I let out a yelp in surprise.

"Sorry, hon! This is going to take a while!" She said in a cheery manner, grinning up at me beneath the golden tattoos adorning her face. "Once we're done making you look like a human being, you'll get to meet your actual stylist!"

So these people were only the prep team. I unconsciously let out an exasperated sigh, frantically repeating Haymitch's command of not complaining in my head as more hot wax was poured over my leg.

* * *

I have never felt more like a plucked bird in my life.

I decided on zoning out, quietly wondering if Gale was going through the same thing, as the three frantically bounced themselves around me. They waxed any stray body hair they found as they went, leaving my skin red and raw. The times that I had paid attention to their random babbling was usually when they started talking about a man named Cinna. They said that he was my stylist, and that he had no interest in seeing me until all of my obvious problems were addressed.

Addressing these problems included ridding me of all my body hair, shaping my eyebrows, filing my nails into uniform shapes, rinsing my hair with a white substance that made it unnaturally shiny, and scrubbing my entire body until at least three layers of skin were removed.

I kept quiet as they stood me up and began covering me with a clear moisturizer that soothed my tender skin. I felt intensely vulnerable as they encircled me, viewing me as a piece of meat in need of preparation.

After this was done, they armed themselves with metallic sets of tweezers and checked briefly to see if there was any body hair that they had missed before taking a deep breath and stepping back to admire their work.

"Wonderful!" the stylist named Flavius cheered, daintily clapping his hands together, "You behaved so well this entire time! If there's anything we can't stand, it's a whiner."

I flashed them a forced grin, finally seeing the wisdom behind Haymitch's words. "Thank you. We never really had much cause to look nice in District 12, so this is a...nice change," I managed to choke out.

This made them wild. "Oh, you _poor dear!"_ Octavia whined, looking genuinely distressed for me, "Don't you worry! You're going to look gorgeous by the time Cinna is done with you!"

"And now that you're not as hairy, you don't even look _that_ bad!" Venia encouraged, "Let's go call in Cinna!"

They proceeded to dart out of the room, leaving me exposed in the middle of it. I fought the urge to retrieve a robe to cover myself, knowing that Cinna would probably just ask for me to remove it again to examine his prep team's work.

The door opened quickly, and a surprisingly natural-looking man stepped into the room. His hair was close-cropped and was a natural shade of brown, and he sported clothes that were completely black and tasteful. The only concession to self-adjustment that I could see was the thin line of golden eyeliner he had framing his hazel eyes. It brought out the gold flecks in his otherwise pure green irises, and looked very attractive despite my disgust in Capitol fashions.

"Hello, Katniss," he said in a gentle voice, holding out his hand. I hesitantly shook it before mumbling a greeting in response.

"Let me just take a look at you." He slowly encircled my body, not touching me but examining it very closely. "You have very nice skin. Has anyone ever told you that?"

I let out a nervous laugh. "That's probably because of all the work I just had done to it."

He stopped in front of me before giving me a warm smile. "I didn't mean all the adjustments. You're very good-looking, naturally."

I pursed my lips in an attempt to smile back.

"Go ahead and put on that robe." Cinna pointed at a white one that hung on a hook at the far side of the room. I hurried over and retrieved it before wrapping it around my body, instantly relieved to finally have something to cover myself with.

"You must be new," I examined, making my way back over to him, "I've never seen you in the Games before."

"I am," he stated in response, almost absently.

"So they gave you District 12," I responded matter-of-factly. We were usually the most undesirable district, and always given to the newcomers.

Cinna raised his eyebrows at me. "I asked for District 12." He didn't give any further explanation before wandering around the room, thinking aloud to himself. "It's usually customary to dress you in something that relates to your district's industry. Coal-mining, is it?" He didn't wait for my answer before continuing, "I'm sure you're used to seeing tributes in the past wearing coal-miner outfits. My partner, Portia, and I think this is very overdone. We want to make District 12 unforgettable this year."

I swallowed hard before feeling myself tense up. Unforgettable? That seemed to go hand-in-hand with nudity.

"So, instead of focusing on coal-mining specifically, we're going to be focusing on the coal itself."

Naked and covered in black coal dust. Perfect.

"And what does coal do?" He paused, looking back at me and silently laughing at my troubled expression. "It burns." He slowly made his way back over to me. "You and the boy will be in complimentary outfits, of course. Neither of you are afraid of fire, right?"

I arched an eyebrow at him, now utterly confused.

* * *

A few hours later, Cinna had me dressed in a shiny black unitard that covered me from my ankles all the way to the top of my neck. My legs were covered with black boots that laced up to my knees, and my back was adorned with a fluttering cape, decorated with shredded strips of orange and yellow. It came with a matching headpiece, and Cinna explained that he planned to set it ablaze just before the show. Even with him constantly explaining that it would just be a synthetic flame, I still found myself completely skeptical. What if Gale and I ended up being barbecued on our chariots? Would we still be sent into the arena with the wounds?

Cinna gently sat me down in front of a mirror before applying very little make-up on my face, only highlighting my cheeks and lengthening my eyelashes a bit. My hair was curled into tight ringlets before being very loosely braided down my back. He left out a few strands and re-curled them to frame my face.

"Your usual style, with a twist. We want everyone to be able to recognize you in the arena," Cinna said with a grin. "Katniss, the girl who was on fire."

I unintentionally shot him a incredulous look before hearing distant, unintelligible voices from outside the room. I recognized only one of them as Gale's.

Cinna listened to the same voices before drifting over to the door. "I think that's Portia with the prep teams and the boy."

The door opened swiftly, almost knocking Cinna right in the face, before a very frustrated looking woman who I assumed to be Portia rushed into the room. "I got him ready, but he's not very happy about the synthetic fire."

Cinna watched with pursed lips as Gale stepped into the room, dressed in a similar costume to mine.

"You're going to light us on fire? Are you _insane_? Do you Capitol people not know that fire is _dangerous_?" Gale said with a slight edge of condescension, and by his agitated tone I could tell that he had trouble enduring all the other parts of the remakes.

Cinna took a deep breath before quickly glancing at me. I must have had a similar look of distrust in my eyes, since he defeatedly sighed, "It can't be helped. I'll test it out on myself in front of you two." He swiftly turned around and made his way over to a set of drawers in the corner of the room. I had presumed that the drawers were filled with cosmetics when I had first seen them, but when they were opened up, I was taken aback by the numerous jars of chemicals and torches they carried instead.

"I would never intentionally hurt anyone wearing my designs," Cinna gingerly rolled up the sleeve covering his right arm, revealing numerous burn scars, "I usually turn the consequences of them on myself. You see, I've tested these flames numerous times before even thinking of the designs you're wearing right now."

"I kept on telling him to just use cellophane and fans, like those faux fireplaces," Portia chimed in, a look of pride in her eyes, "but he just wouldn't give up. He wanted only the best for District 12."

I swallowed hard, feeling guilt well up in my chest, but it didn't change the fact that the scars were evident right in front of me. It crossed my mind that this stylists' calm and caring demeanor masked a mad man.

Everyone in the room watched in silence as Cinna wrapped his arm in a fabric similar to what the capes and headdresses were made of before tentatively picking up a torch from the drawers and neatly dipping the top of it into one of the jars, coating it in a clear chemical. He carefully reached deep into the back of the drawer before pulling out a small vile filled with a thin, red substance and trickling a small amount onto the torch. Almost immediately, the torch was lighted with a flickering, orange flame. No smoke was coming from it, and the crackling I had become so accustomed to hearing whenever seeing a fire was absent completely.

"This right here, is a synthetic flame. It acts like fire, it illuminates things like fire," Cinna pointed the torch directly at his arm, lighting the fabric up, "but most importantly, it looks like fire."

I watched in awe as Cinna handed the torch to Portia while his arm was still ablaze. I felt as if it needed to be put out, but he looked like he was in no pain at all. He grinned at Gale and I, his face flickering in the orange light of the fake flame. "You see, you smell no burning flesh. The fabric isn't even burning up."

Portia, almost on cue, extinguished both the torch and Cinna's arm with some sort of spray from an aluminum bottle, causing him to unwrap his arm and let Gale and I inspect the undamaged fabric.

"So," Cinna politely drifted over to Gale's side, "it won't hurt you or your special lady."

Gale looked almost sheepish as he was led out of the room.

We whisked ourselves to the bottom level of the Remake Center where our chariots were waiting. Ours was guided by four ironically fitting coal-black horses. Cinna and Portia led us over to the chariot before seating us inside of it, adjusting our bodies in the right positions and draping our capes before aimlessly walking away from us to consult each other.

I instantly turned to Gale once they had left, shooting him a troubled look. "Even after all that, I still have a bad feeling."

"Me too," he said, furrowing his eyebrows. "If it starts to hurt, we rip each others' capes off."

I nodded my head, sealing the deal.

"By the way," Gale cleared his throat, "Want to tell me about the whole thing you and Effie talked about now? Before something else pops up?" His tone was exasperated.

I swallowed hard, preparing myself with a deep breath before speaking. "She said that we have to act like lovers in the games."

I was almost afraid to look at him after finally confessing it, but I sneaked a peek at his face anyway. His gray eyes had widened in disbelief, and if it wasn't for the makeup, I think his face would've been colorless. Uneasiness immediately filled my chest at his silence. I was about to beg him to forget that I ever said anything when the music started, drowning out all sound. Massive doors slowly opened in front of the chariots, revealing the crowded streets and the carpeted path we were going to ride across.

District 1 appeared first, immediately causing delighted shrieks from the crowd with their jeweled costumes. They were followed by District 2, and in almost no time at all District 10 was making their way onto the street.

Gale suddenly grabbed my hand, causing me to turn to him in surprise. I was having a difficult time making out his expression in the nightlight, and I could barely hear what he was saying. I shook my head confusedly, causing him to move in closer and speak right into my ear.

"_I need to talk to you about that later_."

My heart immediately leapt into my throat. I shot him a frantic look, but he was too concentrated on the street in front of us to notice. Was that his way of telling me that he didn't want to go through with it? If it was, why was I so bothered by it? Shouldn't I have been relieved that we didn't have to broadcast a fake relationship? But, for some reason, my chest began aching tremendously.

Suddenly, Cinna appeared at my side with a lighted torch, interrupting my thoughts. Before I could react, he lit my cape with it. I could feel Gale jump beside me right before his cape was lit, too. We both raised our hands at each other in preparation to rip the other's cape off, only to be stopped by the lack of pain. I let out a silent sigh of relief before glancing at Cinna, who was already grinning up at us knowingly.

Before long, our chariot was slowly moving towards the door. Cinna briefly looked over us before shouting something at Gale, gesturing his last idea. Gale nodded before giving him a weak smile and grabbing my hand once again. And that was when we entered the city.

The moment our horses had stepped into the view of the crowd, illuminated by the fires set ablaze on our capes, a complete silence fell over the crowd. They seemed alarmed for a couple moments, shooting us looks of worry as they tried to see if the flames were causing any damage, but that immediately turned into them going wild with chants of "District Twelve!" The light from the fires provided us with a sort of spotlight, stealing attention from the chariots in front of us and making every head in the crowd turn our way. The attention initially made me uncomfortable, but once I caught sight of a big television screen broadcasting us, I knew just why everyone was going crazy with admiration and delight.

In the deepening twilight, both of our faces were absolutely luminescent. The strategically placed highlights Cinna and Portia had brushed on our cheeks made it seem like we were glowing, and our flowing capes left a trail of disappearing flames behind us. And through it all, we were both recognizable because of the natural makeup.

Gale and Katniss. The two fires.

Even with the people of the Capitol shouting lovingly at us, I still found myself distracted by what Gale had said right before our capes were lit. I glanced over in his direction, only to see how striking he looked with the flames lighting up his features in the nightlight. I almost fell out of the chariot from the surprise, which only made him tighten his grip on my hand.

The people of the Capitol were now shouting both of our first names, which they had bothered to find in the program. I watched as Gale flashed smiles at the crowd, and I tried to follow suit, but mine didn't look nearly as breathtaking as his. I settled for weakly waving in random directions with my free hand.

Flowers were being flung in our direction, and the ones I managed to catch, I gave a gentle kiss. Gale began doing the same thing, and ended up getting a much more grand response from the crowd.

Even with that bruise on his jaw, he was still attracting a lot of attention from the Capitol women. If anything, it just got him more. I watched as they swooned in their spot if Gale so much as looked in their direction. I pursed my lips and continued to wave, trying to take my attention off of him.

All of the chariots circled around each other until we came to a halt in front of President Snow's mansion. The music ended with a flourish and left my ears ringing.

The president appeared on the balcony above us with his arms outstretched at his sides. After he received a polite applause, he made a traditional speech welcoming the tributes to the Capitol. The cameras were supposed to stay on the president throughout his speech, but I could see on the screens that they kept drifting towards us. The darker it became, the more difficult it was to ignore the flickering of our flames.

Once the speech was over, all the chariots rode around in one last circle before disappearing into the Training Center. The doors had just closed before our prep teams engulfed us with shrieks of praise. Cinna and Portia made their way over to us before helping us down from the chariot and carefully removing our capes and headdresses. Portia laid them out on the floor before extinguishing them with same spray she had used earlier.

I prepared myself for the worse as I approached Gale. "You wanted to talk?"

He didn't even hesitate before responding. "I don't want anything fake. Especially not with you," he clenched his jaw before continuing, "You're the only one I can...You know." He casted his eyes downward. "Be myself with. I know it's selfish, but I don't want that to change."

I was instantly filled with relief. "A good point," I mumbled, beaming up at him unintentionally.

"But," he started, "if the relationship was real..." His voice drifted off, and I felt myself stiffen. I pursed my lips before my eyes found the marble floors, unable to respond. "Katniss?" Gale's voice got more urgent as he stepped closer to me, putting his hands on my shoulders.

I looked up at him only to see a look of hurt behind his ashen eyes. I wanted to make it disappear, to make him smile again, but the confusion I was feeling made me feel absolutely mute. Was he asking for a real relationship? That wouldn't do well in the games, would it? What would happen when one of us lost the other?

I gulped, lowering my eyes again.

His hands limply slid off my shoulders. In the rackety din of the other tributes celebrating, I almost didn't notice when he turned and walked away.

* * *

**Please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

_**The Hunger Games**_** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

"_But... If the relationship was real..."_

Gale had been occupying most of my thoughts ever since we entered the Training Center, making it difficult to concentrate on anything. Even now, when Effie was leading me into a glass-walled elevator, the image of his shadowed eyes stuck in my mind.

I was thankful that Effie hadn't noticed how distant I was. She was busy gushing over how Gale and I had "made such a _splash!_" on the chariot ride. Apparently, she's been talking around the Capitol all day about it, trying to win us sponsors.

"I made sure not to appear too desperate though!" she stressed, her eyes squinting dramatically before she continued, "Even if it came to that, I would have to act mysterious. Haymitch has yet to tell me about the angles he has prepared for you two." She sighed, pressing the level twelve button on the elevator wall before it rose us into the air. Each district had its own floor in the Training Center, and you would be taken to it by just simply pressing your district number in the elevator. It was easy enough to remember.

"Of course, I think I could make a good guess as to what he has planned," Effie mumbled, her tone getting slightly mischievous, "Two star-crossed lovers just wanting to get their beloved sweetheart home safely...!" She let out a dreamy sigh, making me stiffen. If only she knew that I had told Gale about our little secret earlier, and that he had dismissed the idea of a fake relationship completely. Of course, it was me who rejected the idea of a real relationship. Even if I hadn't said it out loud, Gale probably knew what I was thinking. That was the downside of knowing each other so completely. We couldn't keep our darkest thoughts to ourselves.

I let out an airy sigh, causing Effie to divert her attention over to me. "Come to think of it, dearie, you've been quiet this whole time! I bet my buttons you're just too shocked about how stunning you looked on that chariot! Cinna did a marvelous job. Portia too, but Gale didn't really need much work done on that face of his, anyway!"

I pursed my lips, thinking back to when I had snuck a look at Gale's illuminated face on the chariot ride. He must have stolen the whole show. I unintentionally shot Effie a glare, causing her to furrow her pencil-thin eyebrows in confusion.

"Hon...?" Effie murmured hesitantly, "Please don't tell me you did something stupid."

I swallowed hard, hoping that she would get bored of my silence and continue to babble about her conversations around the Capitol, but she refused to take her attention off of me. Even when the elevator stopped and the doors slid open in front of us, she was still waiting for a response.

I exhaled loudly before making my way out of the elevator. Effie was the last person I wanted to talk to about this at the moment. I half-expected her to call me back, to scold me for being so rude, but she stayed silent behind me. It was a long while before I heard her pointed shoes echo off in the other direction.

My quarters ended up standing out from the rest of the District 12 floor, so it wasn't that difficult to find despite not having my pink-haired escort's help. Its patterned carpet and pastel-colored walls were filled with a ridiculous amount of gadgets, and each surface seemed to have a group of multicolored buttons programmed to indulge its user. The shower alone had a panel containing at least a hundred of them, providing a vast amount of options you could use to adjust water temperature, pressure, soaps, scents, and sponges.

I looked at the buttons curiously before simply deciding on just pushing them at random until water started running. I stepped into the shower and stood there in silence while orange and pink colored soaps spewed themselves over me, lathered by a scratchy sponge and washed off by lukewarm water. I rubbed my face clean of makeup and ran my fingers through my curled hair, undoing all the work that Cinna had slaved over.

Once the water had stopped, I stepped onto the mat and was startled by the heaters that immediately came out to blow-dry my body. A box came down over my head, freeing me of the labor of untangling my wet hair by sending a current through my scalp, untangling, drying, and parting my hair almost instantly. Once the box lifted up, I felt my hair flow glossily around my shoulders.

I walked up to the closet before tentatively pushing the only button on it. It activated a small screen which allowed me to program an outfit to my taste, which was transported into my hands in less than a second.

After I was dressed and cleansed of everything from my burning chariot outfit, I settled on wandering outside of my quarters in search of the dining room. I had a feeling Effie wouldn't be picking me up for supper today.

The search proved to be easier here than in the train. There weren't as many doors to stray into, and each hallway looked a little different from the last.

I soon found myself stepping into the dining room, only to see Gale out on the balcony conversing with the stylists and Haymitch calmly talking to Effie at the table. This instantly hit me as strange since I had always thought that a discussion presided over by just Effie and Haymitch was bound to strike up disaster. I silently guessed that the duty of strategizing for the games made them both more focused as I hovered over to the table and took a seat next to Effie.

"Ah, look, it's the little trouble-maker herself," Haymitch mumbled, taking in my presence. He must have had his own stylist because he seemed clean, groomed, and just about as sober as I had ever seen him.

"I've been well-behaved," I said defensively, shooting Haymitch a glare. He gave Effie a questioning glance before silently chuckling to himself.

Effie let out a dramatic sigh before straightening her back and turning her attention towards me. "Gale told us about you telling him about our little plan, dearie," Effie said almost bitterly, "And then stated what he wanted to end up doing."

I widened my eyes at them. "And...?"

"They ended up convincing me."

I jumped in my seat, startled by Gale's sudden appearance. I had forgotten just how silent his footsteps could be. A half-smirk played on his lips as he took the seat next to me.

"Gale agreed that the star-crossed lovers act was the best angle that you two could possibly have," Haymitch stated, eyeing the stemmed wine glasses across the room. "And he wants to go with it."

I shot Gale a baffled look, and he gently nudged me in the side with his elbow. I guessed that he wanted me to follow along for now, and that he would explain later. I begrudgingly complied, silently nodding as Haymitch and Effie shot us orders to follow while we were on camera. The orders included always having contact with each other, whether it be holding hands or a full embrace, and to continually talk about the other while we were being interviewed.

"I'll have to work with you both before the interviews... Especially you, Katniss," Haymitch said in a tired tone, "You're about as endearing as road kill."

I pursed my lips and resisted the urge to scowl at Haymitch as everybody let out joking laughs around me.

"You don't give her enough credit," Cinna said politely, grabbing my attention, "She can attract attention whenever she wants to."

The conversation was interrupted when a silent, youthful looking man in a white tunic wandered over to the table and gestured to the tray of wine he was holding, offering some to us all. Haymitch immediately accepted, taking two of the wine glasses off the tray and earning a glare from Effie. I hesitantly took one too, thinking that I'd never get a chance to taste it again. Gale rejected the wine, but ended up taking a few sips from mine when curiosity had overtaken him.

The servers were all young people dressed in tunics, and they were all silent and sported the same disturbingly lost expression. I decided to ignore them and concentrate on the food in front of us—mushroom soup, bitter greens with bite-size tomatoes, thin-sliced beef, noodles in green sauce served with melty cheese, and plump blue grapes.

Once my stomach felt uncomfortably full, I tried to concentrate on the discussion. Portia and Cinna were enthusiastically raving about their ideas for our interview costumes when a girl set a gorgeous-looking frosted cake in the middle of the table and delicately lit it up, making the top of it blaze with fire for a few seconds before it disappeared completely. Everyone clapped as the girl sliced into the cake.

I felt Gale suddenly stiffen beside me. He gently tapped my arm, getting my attention, before pointing up at the girl, making me let out a silent gasp as I studied her face. I couldn't place a name, but her dark red hair and porcelain skin immediately struck a nauseating feeling of guilt in my gut.

"I..._know_ you," I mumbled to the girl as she set a slice of cake in front of me. She glanced in my direction, her uninterested expression soon being crossed with terror. She shook her head violently in denial.

"No, I definitely remember you," Gale affirmed, studying her face insistently. Only a few seconds passed before the same look of terror crossed his features.

I turned back to the table, only to see the four adults eyeing Gale and I like hawks.

"Nonsense!" Effie suddenly snapped, giving me a start and waving the girl off, "How would you two know an _Avox_? The very thought."

"What's an Avox?" I asked quietly, the feeling of guilt now rising into my chest.

"They're traitors of the Capitol. Get their tongues cut off so that they can't speak," Haymitch stated without missing a beat, "It isn't likely that you'd know one."

"Of course they don't know one!" Effie's voice suddenly got very shrill, "Listen you two, you're not supposed to talk to one of them unless it's to give an order. Understand?"

We didn't even bother to nod our heads at Effie.

I knew that the best thing to do was to agree with the adults and say that we confused her with someone else, but that seemed very difficult. We _did _know her. I could feel the pieces of my memory fitting together, and I could tell that Gale had already done so.

"You done, Katniss?" Gale suddenly stood up from his chair, and was now looking expectantly down at me.

"Yeah," I mumbled before following him out of the dining room.

We walked rigidly through the hallways in silence, the red-haired Avox's image haunting both of our minds.

It only took a few more minutes for me to completely recall the memory, and I instantly knew why her face struck such a suffocating feeling of guilt in both of us.

We were her last hope.

* * *

I had blindly followed Gale up a flight of stairs and into a dome-shaped room that led to the roof. I stepped out into the cool evening air and immediately knew why he had taken me there. The wind was loud, and there were at least a dozen wind chimes hung up on random hooks along the cemented walls. No one would hear us here, and Gale had the good sense to suspect that everything was on surveillance in the Training Center.

He turned to face me, the same look of hurt still hidden in his ashen eyes. "They made a garden on top of the roof. It's really stupid, considering this is just where they train tributes to kill each other," he said in a low voice, gesturing to the potted plants and flower beds around us.

I pretended to examine a nearby blossom. "You've been up here before?"

"Yeah. Cinna took me," he muttered under his breath, "He told me about the electric field they have around this place." In one swift motion, he plucked an acorn off of a sapling and tossed it off the roof, only to have it bounce right back and land at our feet, slightly singed from the electricity.

I let out a quiet scoff. "They're always worried about our safety."

Gale gave me a pained smile before he inched closer to me, his footsteps ghostly and quiet. "I don't want you to let what we did to that Avox distract you from training." He was speaking right into my ear now, his voice lower than it was before. I could tell he was being especially paranoid with this subject, not wanting any possible microphones to pick up what we were saying. "Let me shoulder the guilt."

"It's _our _fault she doesn't have a tongue. It's _our_ fault she's a slave for the Capitol now," I whispered back harshly, using all of my self control to keep my voice quiet.

The memory was now fresh in my mind. Gale and I were out under the thick brush of a tree, taking a break from hunting, when all the birds had suddenly stopped singing. One of them turned its melody into a high-pitched, continuous note, almost mechanically giving the others a warning. Then the red-haired girl tore through the brush, speeding through the clearing in front of Gale and I. She was dragging a youthful boy behind her, probably her brother, and they looked as if they had been running for days. She locked her frantic eyes on mine before screaming, pleading for help, and we responded by staying still under the tree where we were safe. A hovercraft materialized above them before propelling a net at the girl, swiftly bringing her up, and launching a spear through her brother's torso. The girl shrieked out something, I think it was her brother's name, before the hovercraft was gone. Then the birds continued to sing as if nothing happened.

Gale grabbed my forearm before pulling me into a forceful hug. "We couldn't save them."

Yes we could. Gale and I are hunters, we know what an animal looks like at bay, and we could have predicted what was about to happen. We were quick enough to be able to grab the girl and hide her under the brush of the tree before the hovercraft appeared. But we didn't.

I knew that Gale must have been aware of this, but I accepted his comfort anyway. I attempted to ignore the guilt wallowing up inside of me and weakly returned his embrace.

We stood there in silence for a while, letting ourselves mourn the red-haired Avox and her brother. I was the first to pull away.

I took a deep breath, pulling myself together, before speaking. "So. I guess we're star-crossed lovers now. Imagine that."

Gale gave me a sheepish grin before looking away. "You have to admit, it's a really good angle."

I rose my eyes at him skeptically, waiting for more of an explanation.

He let out a loud sigh before bringing his gaze back to my face. "I realized that rejecting that angle just because I didn't want a fake relationship was selfish. I need to get you back home safely, and being lovers happened to be a good way to do it," a hint of a smirk played on his lips, "It's just a plus that we get to hold hands now." He offered his hand, probably performing for the cameras that might have had us on surveillance, before giving me a cautious smile.

Gale was too good at acting. His smile just seemed so genuinely sweet and had just the right touch of modesty that it sent an unexpected rush of warmth through me.

I hesitantly put my hand in his before he promptly led me off of the roof and back into the Training Center. He gingerly let go of my hand before saying goodnight, and we proceeded to walk back to our chambers. Tomorrow would be our first day of training, and we both decided that we should get as much rest as possible.

I opened the door to my quarters only to see the red-headed Avox girl delicately collecting my unitard from the floor. She glanced in my direction, and a hint of the terror from the last time we met suddenly appeared in her eyes.

"I'm _so_ sorry," I blurted out, thoughtlessly stepping toward her. Her eyes widened, and I remembered what Effie told me about not talking to them unless it was to give an order. "...that I left my unitard on the floor. Can you give it back to Cinna for me?" I felt my eyebrows furrow in guilt as she obediently nodded.

I let my eyes find the floor as I silently hoped that the Avox knew that my apology ran so much deeper than that. That I was sorry about ignoring her desperate pleas back in the woods, that I let them murder the boy in front of her, that I let the Capitol mutilate her.

The Avox suddenly appeared right in front of me, giving me a start. She flashed me a warm smile before putting a fragile finger to my lips. Was this her way of accepting my apology? I gave her a quizzical look before she padded out of the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

The angelic smile that she gave me clouded my thoughts. Now that I knew that she was a sincerely sweet and forgiving person, it just made it that much more difficult to accept that I let her get pulled into this fate.

I kicked off my shoes before climbing under the covers of the bed, still feeling the Avox's gentle eyes haunt me as I nodded off to sleep.

* * *

**Thanks for reading and reviewing!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks so much for sticking with me. I love all of you to bitsss~ ;u;**

**I realize that this fic has been very closely following the original book so far. Don't worry, it'll get way different soon!**

* * *

_**The Hunger Games**_** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

The guilt refused to relinquish, even in sleep. It haunted my dreams, making images of the red-headed Avox and a starved, unreachable Prim intertwine with gory thoughts of the games. I pictured Gale beside me in a tree-filled arena, setting up snares in hopes of catching something to eat. I pictured the Careers breaking through the thickets with smiles as sharp as the blades twirling between their fingers, and I felt the strain in my vocal chords as I screamed for Gale to run, bolting up from my pillows.

I sat panting on the mattress, unconsciously wiping away the cold sweat that had collected on my forehead with a trembling hand. Dawn was just beginning to break through the windows, scattering gray light into the room.

I tried to calm my frantic breaths, shaking off the images of the Avox's tongueless mouth, Prim's skeletal figure, the Careers' knives, Gale's turned back.

I silently began to think of the imminent moment one of the District 12 tributes had to go, making my lips purse in unease. Even if we somehow became the final two, what would happen then?

With a sigh, I limply dragged myself out of bed and tiredly padded my way into the bathroom. If it came down to us being the final two, I would just have to act fast and be the first to die. It would be nice to have a quick and painless death, perhaps an arrow to the heart, and have Gale instantly become the victor. He would have no problem living without me. His winnings would be enough to support both of our families, and his good looks would find him a wife with ease. Maybe he would even make a family with her.

I swallowed hard, now cementing the choice in my brain. Gale Hawthorne will be the victor of the 74th Hunger Games, whether he liked it or not.

I thoughtlessly began poking at the buttons in the shower until water began pouring out of the shower head. It ended up being icy cold, but I decided not to adjust it. It would help me wake up and prepare for the first day of training.

I watched as foamy orange soaps gushed out and covered my sides before being lathered by a heavy-bristled brush. I worked some of the soap into my hair and rubbed my face clean of sleep before stepping out into the cold air, relieved to feel the warmth of the air dryers blow against me.

Once I was dried and moisturized with lotion, I wandered over to my closet only to find that an outfit had already been set out for me. Its simple design and intricate details led me to believe that it was one of Cinna's creations, made just for training. I worked myself into the tight, black leggings and the long-sleeved burgundy tunic, noting how the stitching in the tunic made my otherwise humble curves more prominent. I silently wondered if Cinna was aiming for a more provocative design with this, but dismissed the thought when I noticed how comfortable the light fabric was. I worked my hair into a long, simple braid down my back and peered into a nearby mirror.

I couldn't help but feel a rush of contentment. This was the first time since the morning of the reapings that I looked like myself. No flashy hair or dresses, no make-up, no flaming capes. Just me, looking like I was heading out to the woods to hunt.

I silently pulled on matching leather boots before heading out the door. It seemed too early for breakfast, but I headed towards the dining room anyway, only to find Gale sitting alone at the table already on his second plate of food. He looked up from his meal before flashing me an impish grin. "You're up early," he noted, taking a sip of water before continuing, "Sleep well?"

I immediately thought of all the dreams that haunted me last night, how I woke up screaming and gasping for breath. I pursed my lips before giving Gale a weak nod and seating myself in the chair next to him. A male Avox began preparing a plate of food in the corner of the room before setting it down in front of me, a look of frozen torment plastered on his fair face. I swallowed hard in an attempt to contain the feelings of guilt that bursted open in my chest every time an Avox appeared, absently picking a roll up off of the plate before hearing Gale let out a quiet groan. I gave him a curious sideways glance, and he responded by gesturing down at our clothes. "I feel kind of ridiculous. I didn't know we would be presented as twins, too."

My eyes quizzically lowered to his outfit, only to find that he was sporting a tunic that was the same color as mine and black, slim-fitting pants. I furrowed my brows, slightly bothered. "Wow. Cinna is really going all out."

Gale nodded, lowering his ashen eyes to the table. "At least we're not on fire this time."

Haymitch sluggishly walked into the room, mumbling a "good morning" to us before ambling over to the Avox and grabbing a plate from him. He filled it up with a healthy amount of rabbit stew before sitting across from Gale and I and giving us both a bored look. "Cute matching outfits," he muttered, swiping a roll off my plate and dipping it in his stew. He continued to speak before I could react. "Let's get down to business—training. I'm expecting to coach you both together, but I could do it separately if you want. Choose now."

Gale let out a short snicker. "Would star-crossed lovers really get coached separately?"

"If one of the lovers had a secret skill they didn't want the other to know about," Haymitch replied without missing a beat.

I had to laugh at this. "It's too late for that, Gale and I already know everything about each other."

Haymitch raised his eyebrows at me before taking a large bite of his stew. "All right then. I'll coach you together."

I felt a sort of relief at the thought of training with Gale. Him watching my back and me watching his, just like it always was in the woods. Of course, this time we would be training to kill people instead of simply hunting to feed our families. The relief vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"Now, give me an idea of what you two can do," Haymitch smirked to himself, his eyes flashing to my silverware, "I already know you're handy with a knife, Katniss."

Gale's face brightened up. "If you think she's good with a knife, you should see her with a bow. She's brilliant, never fails to miss the eyes of whatever she's aiming at."

I felt my cheeks warm up, immediately feeling uncomfortable with Gale talking me up like that.

"You're that good?" Haymitch asked, looking at me unbelievingly.

I stiffened in my seat. "Gale's better. Not only that, but he can catch absolutely anything that moves in one of his snares."

Gale let out a breathy chuckle. "Please. I'm not anywhere near as good as her with a bow." He furrowed his eyebrows, looking deep in thought before replying. "She knows practically every edible and medicinal plant there is."

I frowned at my plate, wondering why Gale was putting so much effort into making me appear more skillful than I really was. I gave him a skeptical look before determinedly saying, "He's good with hand-to-hand combat. He can knock a person out with one punch if he wanted to." I gulped, silently comparing my scrawny body to the Careers' muscular, well-fed builds. "I probably wouldn't stand a chance against any of the other tributes if I ended up getting attacked."

Gale let out an exasperated sigh, shooting me an embittered look. "Stop moping. Are you really the same Katniss that challenged a black bear a year ago?"

I was instantly silenced. I quietly recalled the event, where I was out hunting with Gale and spotted a bee hive, and foolishly convinced myself that I was stealthy enough to sneak it away from a bear. It ended in me being chased by it, and once it had lost our trail, Gale couldn't stop laughing.

Haymitch cut in with a loud, forced cough. "Yes, yes. All this mutual flattery is very cute. I'm squealing over here," he said in a bored tone, scraping the remaining bits of his stew from his plate and stuffing it in his mouth. "Are there any other skills I should know about?"

I let out a quiet sigh, exchanging a look with Gale before continuing. "He's inhumanely quiet. He can sneak up on practically anything."

Gale pursed his lips. "Katniss can climb trees like they're nothing, and can balance herself on weak, thin branches without even blinking an eye," he made sure that my eyes had found his face before giving me an apologetic grin, "She does have her flaws, though. One of them is that she refuses to accept any compliments."

I felt a smirk play on my lips. "I could say the same for you."

Haymitch cleared his throat, getting our attention once again. "You two are like a bickering old couple," he said with a groan.

I fidgeted uncomfortably in my seat for a moment at the word _couple_.

"Getting back to business, I want you two to steer clear of all the stations you're skilled at. Try to learn something new in group training. Throw a spear, swing a mace, build a fire, paint some pretty pictures—"

"Paint pictures?" Gale's voice was leery.

"I mean _camouflage_," Haymitch said the word in a mocking, flowery tone, "Not very useful in the arena, but they never fail to have a station every year." He sighed before continuing. "Never reveal how much you can actually do in front of the other tributes. Make intentional mistakes, appear mediocre. Save showing what you're best at for your private lessons. Understood?"

Gale and I nodded hesitantly.

"Now, one last thing. Be _all over each other_," Haymitch said in an indifferent tone, making me cringe. "I'm not exaggerating. Make it convincing, never leave each other's side."

I felt Gale stiffen beside me. "You know, it's pretty difficult to be touchy-feely with someone when you're busy swinging a mace."

Haymitch glared at him. "No smartass remarks. New rule." He stood up from his chair before fishing out a flask from his pocket and taking a long pull on it. He gave us both a wave of dismissal before turning on his heel and heading for the door. "Meet Effie by the elevator at ten," he called over his shoulder.

I let out a long sigh before tentatively peering at Gale out the corner of my eye. He was already looking at me, his head resting in his hand.

"So, do you really think I'm all that amazing?" He flashed me a playful grin, his eyebrows raising.

I flinched at his words, feeling my cheeks get hot. "Don't make me regret talking you up," I mumbled, standing up from my chair and attempting to hide my face from him.

I heard Gale let out a quiet sigh. "I was kidding, Catnip," he scooted out his chair before standing up and gingerly stepping towards me, "Sorry."

I didn't have enough self-control to ignore him. My body seemed to move on its own as I turned on my heel to face him, soon finding myself gazing into his silver eyes. He must have spotted my blush, since his apologetic expression was quickly replaced with a mischievous one.

"Of course, everything I said about you was true," he muttered, experimentally inching his face closer to mine, "Even though you still have room for improvement."

My pulse quickened to a frightening rate before I immediately turned my face away from his, clumsily backing up and putting space between us. "You don't have to act right now," I swallowed hard in an attempt to steady my shaking voice, "There's no one here to watch."

Gale's face immediately fell at my words. "Is that _really_ all this is to you? An act?"

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, surprised by the amount of disappointment in his voice. I thought back to all the times we were alone in the woods, words unneeded as we zipped through the trees. We would know where the other was aiming and what the other was planning to do almost by instinct. My heart would speed up at times when I was particularly close to him, but I had always blamed that on the adrenaline of hunting.

That was all I ever really needed. I never expected any feelings to develop, or for our friendship to escalate into anything more.

I let my eyes find the floor as my hands clenched into stiff fists at my sides. "What else would it be?"

A flash of hurt appeared behind Gale's eyes for a split moment before he gulped, regaining his composure. "Good point," he sighed, forcing a smile as he stepped toward me, "I'm going. Don't be late for training." He brushed a gentle hand across my cheek before casually walking out of the dining room.

I stood still for a moment, still feeling the warmth of Gale's hand tingle on my cheek. I waited until the echo of his footsteps stopped before stalking back to my room and closing the door behind me.

I knew that I had made the right choice by not giving in back in the dining room, so why did I feel so empty? I sat down on the bed with a groan, becoming frustrated with Gale for making things so difficult.

Of course it was all an act, and Gale was just too good at it. There were moments where he actually had me believing that his advances were sincere, and it frightened me.

I gulped, thinking back to all the girls I heard whispering and giggling to themselves around school about him. It was just recently that it had started to bother me, as if Gale was my possession. And in a way, he was.

Before meeting each other, we were just two lost, fatherless children with the heavy responsibility of providing for our families. We no longer were alone the day that we crossed paths in the woods. Having a partner, someone who understood what it felt like to have the responsibility of keeping food on the table, was like the doorway to both sustenance and sanity, and we were each other's key.

Gale was mine. And I was his. Anything else was unthinkable.

At least for now. Until he became the victor of the Hunger Games and found himself a pretty wife to live the rest of his life with.

This thought made my chest ache, and I attempted to soothe it with deep sighs. I glanced at the digital clock on the screen by my closet and found that it was almost ten, causing me to reluctantly make my way over to the bathroom before splashing my face with water and smoothing my hair back into a tidier braid. The aching feeling in my chest was soon replaced with nervousness as I headed out my door and towards the elevator, thinking about meeting the other tributes and seeing what they were capable of.

I thought that I would be on time, but the sight of Gale waiting beside a very impatient looking Effie by the elevator told me otherwise.

"I told you to not be late," Gale said jokingly as Effie prodded the down button on the panel beside the elevator.

"We're not exactly late, but it's traditional to show up early for these kinds of things," Effie murmured, her pencil-thin eyebrows creasing together in frustration, "We're going to end up showing up at 10 on the dot. How embarrassing."

The training rooms were below ground level, but the swift elevator had us down there in less than a minute. Effie shot Gale an expectant look, causing him to wrap a strong arm around my waist before the doors opened, revealing a giant gymnasium filled with various weapons and obstacle courses. Although it wasn't 10 yet, we were the last to arrive. Effie must have noticed because I heard her let out a theatrical sigh before shoving us out of the elevator and quickly closing the doors behind us.

The other tributes were gathered in a large, rigid circle surrounding a tall woman who I assumed to be the head trainer. Gale's grip around me tightened as he led the way over to the circle. Remembering Haymitch's demands back in the dining room, I tentatively leaned into his side, making sure the other tributes could see.

A light-haired, male Avox stopped us in our tracks before pinning cloth squares adorned with the number 12 on both of our backs. As he did this, I did a quick assessment. Gale and I were the only two dressed alike.

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the tense atmosphere weigh down on me. It seemed like every one of the tributes' eyes were on Gale and I as we joined the circle, never breaking our half-embrace.

The head trainer grabbed everyone's attention with a couple loud claps before immediately beginning to explain the training schedule in a gruff voice. Experts would always be present at each of the stations, ready to help us if we asked. We would be free to use all of the equipment and travel from station to station, per our mentor's instructions. Some of the areas taught survival skills, but most of them dealt with fighting techniques. The head trainer spent a long time stressing how it was strictly forbidden to partake in any combative exercise with another tribute, and that we would need assistants to observe if we wanted to practice with a partner. She began to list all the skill stations, pointing around the room enthusiastically as she did.

I couldn't help but tune out her voice as I studied the other tributes. It was the first time we were all gathered on level ground in simple clothes, giving me a chance to examine their features clearly. I began to silently panic as I realized that most of them probably had at least eighty pounds on me. The Careers looked especially intimidating with their bright, eager faces and fresh muscles. One girl from District 2 with dark hair and a sharp smile kept eyeing Gale from across the circle, setting me on edge.

The head trainer released us with another loud clap, and the Careers instantly set off and began handling the deadliest-looking weapons in the gym with ease. I watched as a male with a stocky build from District 11 threw a spear with great force in one of the areas, piercing a dummy right through the forehead. I began to unconsciously tremble.

"Hey," Gale nudged me in the arm, making me jump, "Want to do some knot-tying first?"

I took a deep breath to steady my nerves before letting out a short chuckle, lowering my voice to just above a whisper. "You cheater. Didn't Haymitch tell us to avoid stations we're skilled at?"

Gale smirked, replying with a whisper. "He also told us to make intentional mistakes. Besides, all the other stations are crowded." He unwrapped his arm from my waist and proceeded to gently grab my hand as we headed to the empty station. I got the feeling that the knot-tying class wasn't exactly the hot spot of the gym, but that didn't stop the District 2 girl from stalking over once Gale had taken a seat there. The District 2 boy exasperatedly followed after her before they began to settle themselves into the fire-building station next to us.

The knot-tying trainer eagerly handed Gale and I thin pieces of rope, obviously glad to have students. He looked Gale straight in the face before asking, "Are you a beginner?"

Gale stifled a short laugh before exchanging a look with me. "Sure am."

I spent the next twenty minutes or so watching Gale entertain the trainer with his mediocre-looking snares, intentionally knotting it too tight in some places and too loose in others. Since I had no talent to mask, I freely knotted the snares to the best of my ability. The trainer was in the middle of showing us how to make a simple trap that would leave a competitor dangling by one leg from a tree when almost rabid laughter coming from the District 2 tributes next to us caught my attention. I curiously began listening to their almost inaudible voices.

"Say we take out Lover Boy first," the male mumbled, struggling to ignite the logs in front of him with two sticks, "make the girl watch."

The female let out a piercing shriek of laughter. "It's a shame that we have to kill such a pretty face. Don't you think so, Cato?" She continued to eye Gale, making me almost rip the rope I was working on in half.

The male named Cato's eyes lit up. "He looks pretty useful, actually. Maybe he can join the Careers this year."

A smile played on the girl's lips before she set down the flint she had in her hands and wiped her hands on her knees. "All we need to do is get the girl out of the way. She really bothers me, anyway."

Cato's features twisted into a sadistic grin before he raised his voice significantly. "I just can't wait to cut 12 up into little pieces. Hear her beg for mercy under my blade."

Gale must have heard. I directed my attention to him just in time to see him throw the rope he was working on to the ground before taking long strides toward them, violently grabbing Cato by the collar and bringing him up to eye level.

"Why don't you target one of your Career buddies instead?" he hissed through gritted teeth.

I hurriedly made my way over to Gale, grabbing his forearm. "Don't."

He ignored me, causing Cato to raise his eyebrows uninterestedly at him before talking in an almost bored tone. "Clove, do me a favor and punch Lover Boy in the neck for me."

"That gorgeous neck of his?" She let out a scoff, not even trying to hide her ogling eyes. "Not a chance."

Gale sneered. "Some team mate you have, there."

"Like you're one to talk," Cato spat, beginning to thrash out of Gale's grip, "You just have a useless, scrawny girl by your side. She probably won't even make it through the bloodbath!"

By this time, we had gotten the attention of several assistants and trainers. They made their way over to us, hollering, "District 12! District 2! No combative partners!"

Gale clenched his jaw before throwing Cato to the ground and turning on his heel. He ignored the frustrated shouts from the trainers as he grabbed my arm, leading me away from Cato and Clove. I could tell that he was too blinded by his fury to recognize what was going on around him with a clear head, so he probably didn't hear what Cato mumbled from the ground right before we stormed away.

But I did.

It was a simple statement, said in a normal tone of voice, but the way his words were cemented with such confidence sent shivers down my spine. He had turned to Clove before hissing it, and she nodded her head in agreement without hesitation.

_"They're the first ones we kill."_

* * *

**Thanks so much for reading! Please Review!**


	8. Chapter 8

_**The Hunger Games**_** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

"Gale?"

My voice was hushed as he pulled me toward the spear-throwing station. He gently let go of my arm once we had reached it, only to pick up the nearest spear and savagely throw it at a nearby dummy, making a good stick right where the eye socket would have been. He had obviously intimidated the field, causing most of the other tributes to keep their distance from us.

I stood quietly next to him, studying his flaring gray eyes and creased eyebrows.

The last time I had seen him act like this was out in the woods on a particularly chilly October morning. We both had our bows slung around our shoulders, but instead of being on the lookout for game, he was busy ranting loudly about the Capitol's injustice towards the districts. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, except his words were much more vicious and the sound of his almost inaudible steps was replaced with booming, insistent stomps. It had become a sort of tradition for me to keep by his side, offering him silent comfort, until he was done.

Even though his powerful words scared away our game, I had preferred he let out everything in the woods where nobody could hear us than back in District 12. He would always make up for it by hunting especially well afterwards, and in a way, I was relieved that he trusted me enough to let his guard down and pour out his words of hatred towards the Capitol to my awaiting ears.

I kept my eyes locked on Gale's face, watching him take a moment to swallow his rage and slowly gain back his composure. He took a couple swift, deep breaths before surveying the scene around him and turning to face me.

"Haymitch is going to kill me," he noted in a joking tone, specks of anger still apparent in his blazing ashen eyes like lit shreds of flint.

I raised my eyebrows at him and let out a lilting chortle. "Yeah, he will." Upon deeper thought, I glanced at the other tributes around us before timidly reaching my hand out and hooking my pinky with his.

A ghost of a smile played on Gale's lips before he clasped my wrist and pulled me into a tight hug. "I'm just so protective of you," he stated, the authenticity in his tone lacking as he raised the volume of his voice.

At first, I was startled. I felt the other tributes' eyes flutter towards us, scoffing and groaning before resuming their activities. My initial reaction was to pull away, but I fought it, remembering that our lovers act was still in play. I weakly wrapped my arms around his sides, unwillingly feeling a blush pool in my cheeks as I took in his familiar scent.

I was counting the seconds until Gale pulled away, feeling uncomfortable in our public embrace, when I heard Clove's voice echo from across the gym. I couldn't understand what she was saying, but I registered the sound of annoyance. I silently remembered her outward flirting towards Gale, and felt a slight feeling of satisfaction at her having to watch us together in the corner of the gym.

Before I knew it, I felt a smirk pull at the sides of my mouth as I insistently nuzzled myself closer into Gale's chest, hoping that Clove had a good view of it.

Gale let out a quiet chuckle into my hair. "Catnip?"

I was too busy savoring my victory to reply to him. His grip around me weakened, but I responded by tightening mine.

"Catnip."

I furrowed my eyebrows, frustrated at him interrupting me.

"Katniss," Gale murmured, pulling away just enough to gently take my face into one of his hands and turn it so that I was looking at the rest of the gym.

Gamemakers, twenty or so of them, were shuffling around. Their purple robes flowed around their ankles as they studied the tributes, pausing occasionally to jot down notes. Some of them lazily wandered over to the endless banquet laid out for them, while others took scattered seats among the elevated stands surrounding the room.

I saw that a handful of them were fixated on Gale and I, shaking their heads as they diligently scribbled into their notes. One of them stepped toward us before calling out, "Shouldn't you two be focusing on something else?"

I felt my cheeks heat up as I immediately stepped backward and away from Gale, letting my arms fall limply at my sides.

Gale tried to stifle a fit of laughter. "Yeah, we really should save all that for later, when we're alone." His eyes swayed mischievously over to me before he let one of them snap into a wink.

* * *

Breakfast and dinner would always be served on our own district's floor, but all twenty-four of the tributes ate lunch together in a dining room next to the gymnasium. Its design was a lot like the gym itself, with its plain white walls and waxed floors, but instead of stations, it was filled with tables and numerous carts of food.

We all served ourselves before getting situated at the tables. The Careers seemed to levitate toward each other, making sure to gather around the central table as if to prove their superiority to us. They proceeded to laugh and converse heartily, like they had been friends for years.

Most of the other tributes took spots at tables that were stowed away in corners, trying to fade into the background. I watched as they took nervous bites of their food, eyeing everyone else in the room with distrustful, studying gazes.

"Have you noticed the twelve-year-old from 11?" Gale asked absently, choosing a table and setting his food on top of it. He made a big show by pulling out a chair for me and flashing a warm smile once I had seated myself down in it. I had seen enough of his smiles in the woods to tell that the one he was sporting then was far from genuine.

"Yeah. She's been staying at the edible plants station ever since training started," I mumbled in response. I had unconsciously kept an eye on her ever since I saw the televised reapings, noting how her small stature wouldn't get her far in the games. She had dark brown skin and a thick wave of raven hair, but other than that, she was hauntingly similar to Prim in size and demeanor.

Gale narrowed his eyes, struggling to keep the smile on his face as he sat down next to me. "She reminds me of..." His voice drifted off as he saw me visibly stiffen, "someone."

I creased my eyebrows, feeling guilt rise into my chest. "How do you think they're doing without us?" My voice was just above a whisper as I thought about our families back in District 12. I tried to hide my panic-stricken face from the other tributes, not wanting to ruin our act.

"She's fine," Gale stated without missing a beat, "Everyone in the district loves her. She's probably getting piles of food every day."

Of course he knew that the heart of my worries was Prim. I silently wondered how Gale himself was holding up, how he pushed thoughts of his family to the back of his mind. It must not have been easy, being reaped and losing your younger brother all in a single wave of events. Even though technically, Gale wasn't reaped.

I clenched my fists under the table, struggling to calm myself. "You shouldn't have volunteered."

The atmosphere between us became tense as my words lingered in the air.

Gale swallowed hard. "What was I supposed to do? Let you go without me?" I glanced to my side, only to see that he was now glowering at me. So much for holding up the act.

"That was _exactly_ what you were supposed to do. Remember our promise?" My voice was grim as I watched his eyes gradually become continually more rigid like hard silver steel. He pursed his lips tightly together before swiftly lowering his gaze to the table.

"I wasn't thinking straight. I knew that you could hold your own in the games. You're the best hunter I know," he murmured through barred teeth, "but I just couldn't stand even the thought of losing you."

I inhaled sharply. "Well. Now we're just going to have to lose our families."

I wanted to take back the words the moment they left my mouth. My eyes widened as they echoed in my ears before I frantically looked over to Gale, only to see him slowly drawing away from me. "Wait, I—"

"No, don't. You're right," he said, exhaling loudly, "I shouldn't have volunteered."

I didn't know why his words were so cutting to me. I silently cringed before directing my attention back to my food, thankful that most of the tributes weren't interested in looking at us at the moment.

"But," Gale's voice interrupted my thoughts, "I don't regret it." His hand found mine under the table before he gave it a comforting squeeze. "Like I said before, she's fine."

Gale wasn't one to keep secrets from me. I could tell that he honestly thought that our families were going to be okay, at least long enough for one of us to get back. I felt the muscles in my face relax as I instinctively squeezed his hand back.

"I'm glad you're here," I whispered under my breath. I had hoped that he wouldn't be able to hear it, but his hunting ears were too skilled.

I watched as his fake smile swiftly turned into a true one.

* * *

"First day of training is over!" The head trainer's gruff voice filled the gym, grabbing everyone's attention. Gale and I were posed at the weightlifting station, him easily lifting two fifteen-pound dumbbells and me struggling with a single eight-pound one.

"I'll see all of your lovely faces here bright and early tomorrow!" The trainer turned away and released us before gathering with a group of Gamemakers. The tributes seemed to move in a single wave towards the elevator, eager to eat dinner back on their floors.

I felt a pout tug at the sides of my mouth as I defeatedly set my weight back down on its rack. Gale put both of his next to mine before taking my hand and leading us over to the elevator.

"I thought we weren't supposed to be showing off," I muttered under my breath.

Gale let out a joking scoff. "Fifteen pounds is showing off?"

We all crowded into the elevator before a girl from District 1 pressed all the buttons on the panel, making it so that we would take a stop at each of the districts' floors.

The Careers didn't hesitate before gathering together and conversing enthusiastically. I caught Cato out of the corner of my eye quickly pointing a finger at Gale and I, causing all the other tributes around him to nod their heads eagerly. Clove locked eyes with me before flashing a gleaming smirk.

They weren't joking when they said we made ourselves their first target.

I swallowed hard before unconsciously stepping closer to Gale and resting my cheek against his side, causing him to let go of my hand before wrapping a firm arm around my shoulders.

The elevator emptied quickly, and soon only us and the tributes from District 11 were left. I studied the twelve-year-old, how her stance was so similar to Prim's—always having most of her weight on her toes, leaning forward and extending her arms slightly. It made it so that she always looked like she was about to take flight.

She caught my gaze before giving me a distrusting glance, turning away and stepping towards the male tribute. He was the one I saw with the spears earlier, with a massive build and muscles like an ox.

I gulped before returning my attention towards the girl tribute again. "What's your name?" I asked without thinking. She seemed startled at my voice, giving a slight jump before lowering her dark, slanted eyes to the floor.

"Rue," she mumbled, pursing her lips. The elevator stopped before the doors slid open, revealing the District 11 floor. The male tribute stepped out first, ignoring Gale and I as he passed us. Rue walked sprightly towards the exit before pausing and turning to me again. "And that's Thresh. You shouldn't be scared of him." She made her way out the elevator without another word, the doors closing behind her.

I stiffened before leaning against Gale for support, the elevator now empty except for us. "Twelve-year-olds shouldn't be allowed in the games," I mumbled bitterly, clenching my fists together. I silently imagined poor, fragile Rue trying to hold her own against a 200-pound Career, and found myself hoping that she had some hidden talent to help her at least get through the blood bath.

"No one should be allowed in the games," Gale responded, his voice turning sullen. He ran a hand through his dark hair before uttering, "Maybe there's a way to make all three of us win."

I shook my head, wishing that Gale would just let go of his hopeless fantasies.

* * *

Back in the dining room, Haymitch and Effie grilled us throughout dinner about every moment of training—what stations we went to, who watched us, how the other tributes sized up. Cinna and Portia were no where to be seen, so there was no one to tame the constant questions.

Gale seemed to be avoiding the fact that we had made ourselves enemies with the Careers, and Haymitch and Effie seemed completely oblivious. I decided to keep quiet about it, knowing that they would find out eventually.

"I didn't hear about how inappropriate the District 12 tributes were acting during training, so you guys obviously weren't touchy-feely enough," Haymitch grunted, helping himself to a second serving of lamb stew.

Effie raised her eyebrows before taking a dainty bite from her platter of peas and carrots. "Don't go too overboard, we want to save most of it for the interviews," she stated in an urgent tone before murmuring, "Not to mention how overly scandalous behavior from you two might just make me the laughing stock of the Capitol..."

I tried my best to concentrate on the discussion as I shoveled down the bed of lamb stew in front of me. The dried plums seemed strange at first, but I soon became accustomed to its sweet flavor in contrast to the lamb.

Haymitch cleared his throat, eyeing us from across the table. "Now, let's talk private sessions with Gamemakers." He pointed a bored finger at Gale, "You. Snares." He moved his finger so that it was pointing at me, "You. Archery. Any questions?"

"_Just_ snares?" Gale asked almost disappointedly.

"Feel free to mix in a little exotic dancing if you want," Haymitch replied boredly. Effie fussily slapped his knuckles, and with very loud noises of discontent he added, "_Or_ a couple knife throws!"

I looked up from my lamb stew and unintentionally shot Haymitch a skeptical look. "We're the last ones they see. I'm pretty sure they won't be paying much attention to us, anyway."

Haymitch let out a prolonged sigh. "You two should still be able to get decent scores, regardless. They like destruction, try to take out some of the overhanging lights in the gym. If the sparks don't interest them, you're out of luck."

If luck was what Gale and I were depending on, then we might as well not show up for the private sessions at all. I felt my face fall as I soaked in Haymitch's words.

Effie clicked her tongue before absently examining her nails. "I really shouldn't be talking about this around the tributes, Haymitch, but I heard that they leave the Training Room open during the evening."

Haymitch smirked, quickly catching on. "_God forbid_ these two sneak down there and prepare themselves."

I exchanged a look with Gale, seeing his gray eyes already filled with mischief.

The rest of dinner was filled with suggestions for our performances. Haymitch seemed to go through each station effortlessly, stating tricks that would get us the Gamemakers' attention. I ignored the ones that dealt with weightlifting and physical combat, and instead paid attention to the ones dealing with edible plants and stealth.

By the time he was through talking, all of our plates had already been scraped clean of food.

Haymitch took a deep breath before grumbling, "If either of you somehow mess this up, I will have to strangle something." He stood up from his chair and ambled out of the dining room without another word, followed by a very enthusiastic Effie. She blew us both a kiss and whispered, "Don't cause too much trouble tonight," before finally taking her exit.

I turned to Gale and smirked when I saw that the mischief never left his eyes.

"Ready to go, Catnip?" he asked eagerly.

"It's not even dark yet," I murmured in response, feeling a ghost of a smile play on my lips, "The trainers probably haven't even left the gym."

Gale let out a prolonged sigh before standing up and straightening his back. "Too bad. Guess we have to kill time until later, then."

I shot him a quizzical look, and he responded by flashing me a sly grin and holding out his hand. "To the roof?"

* * *

We spent the next couple hours under the wind chimes of the roof, bantering about our performances for the Gamemakers. We had made ourselves comfortable in a spot next to a colorful bed of flowers, and I couldn't help but notice that the primroses and common rues were blooming. They both had tiny, yellow petals with towering stems and thin leaves.

Gale must have noticed me eyeing them, because he quickly changed the subject to edible plants. "How are you going to show them that skill?"

I pursed my lips, tearing my gaze away from the two blossoms. "Haymitch said that there really wasn't much to do at that station besides sitting down and eating everything."

Gale let out a short chuckle. "That's sure to get you a perfect score."

I returned the laugh, except it came out sounding unnatural and nervous. Gale raised a single eyebrow before giving my shoulder two gentle pats. "I know you, Catnip. You're going to end up showing everyone up," he murmured confidently, "especially those Careers."

I wished desperately that I could live up to those expectations, but I knew that I would get a five at best. That's what most of the non-Careers averaged at, anyway.

The sun was just setting beneath the vibrant Capitol buildings, painting the sky with a calm orange color. The air cooled down and the winds sped up, whipping the primroses and rues left and right in their flower beds.

"Want to get going?" Gale asked eagerly, already getting to his feet.

I replied with a grin before following him through the doors that led back into the Training Center.

I was filled with a giddiness as we scaled the stairs and quietly made our way to the elevator. It was silly, but breaking the rules with Gale by my side gave me a sense of home. It was almost like we were crawling under the fence into the woods back in District 12 again, sneaking into places we weren't supposed to go and always adrenalized by the thought of getting caught.

I prodded the down button on the panel next to the elevator before it immediately slid open its doors, beckoning us inside its dimly-lit compartment. The only sound echoing throughout the eerily quiet Training Center was the distant squeaking of the elevator making its way passed all the District's floors and below ground into the Training Room.

The doors slid open, revealing a dark, empty gymnasium. Gale was the first to step out of the elevator, and his single footstep caused all the hanging lights in the gym to flicker on and fill the spacious room with glow.

It took a second for my eyes to adjust to the brightness, but once they did, I was almost surprised to see that everything was still in its place. None of the machinery or weight machines had any locks, and it seemed like there were no alarms to set off either. I kept the thought that we were on surveillance at the back of my mind, trying not to let it bother me as I followed Gale into the center of the gym.

"I'm surprised that there aren't any Careers here," Gale said, trying to keep his voice low, "It seems that they try to cheat in every way possible each year."

"Maybe their mentors want it to be an even field this time," I replied coolly before exchanging a look with Gale and bursting into laughter. "Ah. Right, nevermind."

Gale and I both seemed to levitate toward the weapons, not having a chance to really study and use them to our full potential since training began. I impulsively picked up a bow and examined it, only to find myself in awe of the perfectly polished wood and metals it was made out of. The wood seemed sturdy, but it curved easily as I pulled the tightly-wounded string back to my chin. I cheerfully directed my attention to a matching quiver of arrows and studied the perfectly-cut feathers they were adorned with in amazement.

Gale interrupted my thoughts with a chuckle. "I always see you at your happiest when you have a bow in your hands."

I replied with a sheepish smile, lowering my eyes to the bow he had picked up. It was very similar to mine, except it was darker in color and had a handle made out of secure rubber.

We both strung our bows with arrows before slinging the quivers over our shoulders and making our way over to the shooting range. The movement of holding the bow straight out in front of me and pulling the string back had become so natural to me over the years that it filled me with relief, but immediately after I had done so, I knew something was wrong. The string was tighter than the one I used at home, and the arrow was much more rigid and stiff. Even though these were better-quality in the long run, the small changes made me miss my target by a few inches. Gale ended up just barely missing a bull's-eye, and for a moment, I was humiliated. He must have noticed because he let out an exasperated sigh and mumbled, "I was aiming for the target next to that."

We both took shots at the bull's-eyes in front of us again and again until we got a feel for the new weapons, then we began aiming for the dummies. I instinctively took the right and Gale took the left, just like it always was when we were hunting a pack of animals. I skewered my dummy right through the heart and Gale made a good stick in the forehead of his.

Feeling slightly playful, I yelled, "Geese!" in an unshaken tone, immediately broadening my targets to the whole right side of the group of dummies. Gale instantly caught on, taking shots at the left side until we met each other in the middle, just as we did when we were taking down a flock of geese in the air.

Gale was slightly out of breath as he examined my half of the dummies. "That's my Catnip," he said, allowing a big grin to take over his features.

I felt proud seeing that I never missed the heart on any of them. "It's like a boring version of hunting."

Gale let out a short chuckle before gently patting my back.

We spent the next hour or so trying our hands at all of the weapons in the gym, choosing the ones we were going to perform with in front of the Gamemakers. Gale chose the spears in addition to his snares, and decided that he would incorporate weightlifting somehow when he realized that he could toss around a thirty-pound dumbbell like it was nothing. I decided on centering everything around archery, and to close the show up with throwing a couple knives.

We were both winded by the time we decided on putting all the weapons back in their places and making our way back to the elevator. Despite my aching muscles, I felt rejuvenated at finally being able to handle weapons with Gale. It was the closest we would get to hunting back home before we were put into the arena, where we would have to worry about being targeted ourselves.

"I'm expecting a perfect twelve out of you," Gale whispered as we stepped out of the elevator and back onto the District 12 floor.

"Right back at you," I said with a grin, feeling light on my toes.

We both separated and made our way back to our chambers after bidding each other goodnight.

* * *

On the second day of training, I found myself constantly getting distracted by Rue. She caught my gaze on several occasions, and ended up following Gale and I as we joined different stations.

Like me, she was clever with plants, could climb swiftly, and had very good aim, but only with a light, wooden slingshot. A bow looked strange in her hands since she had to hold it at an angle in order for it to not scrape the floor, and spears didn't travel more than two feet after she threw them.

A hint of nervousness rose in my chest as I imagined Rue trying to tackle a Career armed with a sword with that slingshot of hers. The more I examined her, the more I wanted to follow her around and protect her against every little danger. I knew that these newly developed feelings would only cause me trouble in the games, and I had to remind myself repeatedly that my only goal in the long-run was to get Gale home safely.

During dinner, Cinna and Portia joined us for the first time in what seemed like years. They raved about the interview costumes they had prepared for Gale and I, all smiles as they said that it would relate to our breathtaking chariot costumes. They didn't want to reveal more than that.

"We both want it to be a surprise," Cinna stated with a knowing grin.

Gale and I snuck off after everyone had left the dining room, feeling slightly more daring as we took the elevator down to the gym when it was barely dusk. Gale was concentrating more on his snares this time, working his skilled hands until he had a whole line of them dangling onto the floor. He threw spears at dummies, causing them to fall into the snares and instantly get caught in them by the necks.

It was almost strange seeing something human-shaped get caught in one of Gale's snares after being so accustomed to seeing only squirrels and rabbits in them. But nonetheless, I was put into awe.

The third day of training was the day we would be called out of lunch for our private sessions with the Gamemakers. We would perform our best in the limited time they gave us, going district by district, first the boy, then the girl. As usual, District 12 was slated to go last.

Nobody ate as we lingered in the dining room. I could see that even some of the Careers' faces were twisted in nervousness as they watched the room quickly empty, since no one came back once they had left.

Gale sat close to me, quietly reminding me of all the tricks we had come up with together those nights in the gym. He was met only by silence, which he responded to with, "Just think of it as a boring version of hunting."

This immediately summoned a smile out of me.

By the time they called Thresh, we were left alone with Rue.

She seemed to hesitate a little before curiously making her way over to Gale and I and delicately seating herself at our table. She studied us both with her deep, dark eyes before asking, "Do either of you know what you're going to do yet?"

Gale looked a little suspicious as he exchanged a confused glance with me.

"You don't have to tell me." Rue's voice was high-pitched and soothing, almost as if she was singing. It hurt seeing how similar she was to Prim. "Do you want to know what I'm going to do?"

I stayed quiet, still not believing that she was talking to us casually.

She flashed us both an innocent smile before swiftly jumping onto the top of the table and leaping to the next, gracefully landing on her knees as she prepared herself for another leap. She looked natural as she went through the air, exactly like a bird taking flight and landing back to the earth.

"Wait," Gale broke in, "Why are you showing us this? Don't you know that we can use it against you now?"

Rue glanced back at us before getting off of the table she was on and back to her feet. "I feel like I can trust you both."

They called her in after that, and she took sprightly steps out of the room before the door closed behind her, leaving Gale and I alone.

We sat in silence for a moment, taking in what happened.

"You're thinking of making an alliance with her, aren't you?" Gale mumbled, lowering his eyes to the table.

It was funny how he knew what I was thinking before even I did. "She's just so similar to Prim..." My voice was distant.

"I know," Gale said, pursing his lips and thinking over his words before adding, "She seems like she would be handy."

"We would need to kill her," I responded without missing a beat, my voice slightly embittered, "Eventually. We would need to kill her ourselves if we protected her."

Gale stiffened. "We could make it quick."

It sounded like he had to choke the words out. I immediately turned my gaze to him, creasing my eyebrows at the very thought of Rue dying by our hand. "You wouldn't be able to do it."

He refused to meet my eyes as he exhaled sharply. "Neither would you."

We sat in silence for a moment, both deeply bothered until Gale broke it with a sigh. "I want you to know that what I said on the first day still stands. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make you the victor," he swallowed hard before continuing, "Even if—"

"Don't," I cut in without thinking, "I don't want to think about that right now."

The door opened and they summoned Gale. He rose out of his chair with a deep breath.

I began to inwardly panic, fighting the urge to grab after Gale as he took a step away from me. "W-Wait!" I stammered, the word tumbling out of my mouth without my permission. He looked down at me confusedly before I lowered my eyes and mumbled, "Good luck."

A pained smile appeared on Gale's lips before he murmured, "You too, Catnip."

And just like that, he was gone. The sound of the door closing behind him echoed in my ears as I sat alone at our table, nervously fumbling with my hands. Everything that we had practiced in the gym those two nights seemed to slip away from me as I silently panicked, feeling suffocatingly claustrophobic even though the room around me was massive.

I forced myself to take deep breaths. They stung in my throat as they gradually began to calm my racing heart. What exactly set me off the edge?

I thought back to our conversation, furrowing my eyebrows as I slowly gained back my composure. Was it the thought of killing Rue?

My lips pursed together. No. Even though it was a horrible, disgusting thought, it only made me feel uncomfortable.

Then it hit me.

"_I want you to know that what I said on the first day still stands. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make you the victor._"

My hands clenched into fists under the table as the panic began to seize my heart again. That was it, the thought of Gale sacrificing himself in the games for me.

I didn't think it was possible, but within these past few days, I had become even more dependent on him than I was before. Just the thought of losing him sent me into a sea of dread. I clenched my jaw, and tried to soothe myself by making my deep breaths fiercer. This might be what could make me lose myself in the arena. What inhumane things would I be willing to do for Gale's safety?

My thoughts were interrupted by a Gamemaker calling my name from the door. I took a few seconds to quickly collect myself before smoothing back my hair and making my way into the gymnasium.

The scene I was greeted by caught me completely off guard.

What looked like a punch bowl was shattered on the ground behind the banquet table, and one of their robes was completely soaked with the liquid. Avoxes were hastily trying to wipe up the mess with cloths, and the Gamemakers all had a look of shock plastered to their faces. One of them cleared their throat before saying, "I know this looks very unprofessional, but we were running out of time. Please continue with your demonstration."

I creased my eyebrows before obediently nodding, immediately making my way towards the weapons without another thought. Everything Gale and I practiced seemed to flow back into my brain as I neared the bows and arrows. We were right, this was just like a boring version of hunting.

I couldn't stop a smirk from twisting my features as I picked up the same bow I worked with for the past two nights. The now familiar details in the handle felt natural in my hand as I picked up the quiver of arrows and fastened it around my shoulder. The shooting range seemed too simple and predictable at the time, so I made my way to the center of the gymnasium and set up an entire row of dummies. I put a good distance between me and the dummies before swiftly turning around and stringing my first arrow all in one habitual movement. I pulled back the string and let go, taking no more than a split second to aim before I got a good stick right in the heart.

I glanced at the Gamemakers and saw that most of them were nodding in approval. This gave me a boost of confidence, and I soon found myself shoulder-rolling between shots, always managing to skewer the dummies right in the heart. I got to my feet and did a spontaneous twirl before shooting my last dummy, causing a few praising claps to come from the Gamemakers.

My feet seemed to move on their own as I did a leap from the ground, gracefully landing before shooting one of the hanging lights high above the gymnasium floor. I silently thanked Haymitch for this suggestion as the sparks flowed from the ceiling to the ground, making some of the more exuberant Gamemakers give me a short applause.

I began to make my way over to the knife-throwing section, but was stopped by one of the Gamemakers calling out, "That's enough, Katniss Everdeen. You're dismissed."

My feet felt light as I made my way toward the exit. Whatever accident caused the shattered glass and spilt drinks obviously made it so that the Gamemakers were paying attention to my performance and not their food. Maybe the odds were finally in my favor.

As I made my way through the door, I found myself wondering how Gale did.

Then it hit me.

He wasn't the type of person to accept being ignored, especially when his life and the chance of getting more sponsors was on the line.

The bliss I felt from performing well immediately left me and was replaced with a gnawing worry.

After all, the shattered punch bowl really did seem like something Gale would do in a fury.

* * *

**I toyed with the idea of Gale being the one to explode on the Gamemakers instead of Katniss, and I decided that it was a pretty realistic thing to happen. Hope you agree! Thanks for reading.**


	9. Chapter 9

_**The Hunger Games **_**belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

_This elevator isn't fast enough._

I found myself constantly repeating that thought in my mind as I was zoomed upward through the Training Center. The image of Gale losing his head and lashing out at the Gamemakers with what I assumed to be an extra spear caused my heart to go into a flurry of anxiety, making it all the more essential that the elevator I was in quickened its speed.

What would they do to him? Arrest him? Execute him? Cut his tongue off, and fate him to wait on the future tributes of Panem? I've seen enough games in my past to know that the particularly rebellious tributes always ended up being the first to go.

I ferociously bit at my lip. Why didn't I realize what Gale did earlier? The destruction should have tipped me off immediately! If they had already sent guards to him, maybe even while I was busy performing for the Gamemakers, I would be too late. He would be gone.

My limp hands turned into clenched fists at this thought, and I soon found myself nervously darting my eyes around the elevator. There _must_ be a way to make this piece of junk move faster.

It seemed like an eternity before the doors finally slid open, revealing the District 12 floor to my impatient eyes. I immediately rushed out of the compartment, only to be stopped mid-step when a familiar voice intruded into my thoughts.

"Catnip?"

I whipped my head around, only to see Gale calmly leaning against the wall next to the elevator, his raven hair tousled against his moonlit face.

A smirk tugged at the side of his mouth before he murmured, "I was waiting for you." He nervously shifted his feet before continuing, "How did your performance go?"

At first, I was overwhelmed by the sheer relief I felt seeing that he was still safe, but it was soon replaced with a mixture of frustration and resent. I shook my head, brushing off his greeting before fervently whispering, "Please don't tell me that shattered glass in the gym was your fault."

He swiftly lowered his eyes to the floor, clearly already knowing that I was going to bring this up. "They were singing a _drinking song_ while I was tying snares," he groaned defensively, "Only paying attention to the drinks in front of them. One moment I was setting up some dummies, the next I was whirling a spear at their punch bowl."

I swallowed hard, feeling my eyebrows crease together. "What now, then?" My voice sounded weak as it was forced through the now painfully tightened muscles in my throat. Thoughts of Gale's possible punishments scrambled through my head, causing the muscles in my stomach to knot up. "You know how unforgiving the Capitol is!"

Gale raised his eyebrows at me before letting out a quick scoff. "Like they would do anything serious. They need me to be a tribute in their little games," his jaw tightened, venom creeping into his tone as he continued, "It would be a pain for them to replace me at this stage."

A panicked fury welled up in my chest, causing me to choke out my next words. "Did you forget that these are the _Gamemakers_? They could make the arena a living hell for us if they wanted!"

Gale's eyes widened at my words before we were both roused by a low, sluggish voice echoing from down the hallway. It gave us both a start, causing both of our heads to crane in its direction.

"All right, all right. Stop all that yelling."

Haymitch lazily appeared next to me, taking a tense stance before giving me a stubborn glare through his glassy eyes and murmuring, "Jeez. You could wake up the dead with those screams."

I felt a ghost of a pout play across my lips as I lowered my gaze to the floor, still trying to calm my quickened pulse.

Haymitch cleared his throat and shifted his glare to include Gale before running a hand through what remained of his unkempt hair. "Now, what's all this about 'living hells?' Are you two talking about my life?"

"The arena, Haymitch," I said before exhaling sharply.

He began to thoughtfully rub at the thin layer of smoky gray stubble coating his chin, furrowing his eyebrows in an exasperated manner. "Okay. So that's how bad you two did today?"

I pursed my lips and glanced at Gale, only to see that his previous look of frustration was now mixed with what looked like shame. He crinkled his eyebrows together before mumbling in a strained voice, "I'm sure Katniss did fine." He paused to think over his words before continuing carefully, "On the other hand, the only way to get the Gamemakers to even look at_ me_ was to throw a spear at them."

Haymitch raised his eyebrows, the frown wrinkles covering the lower half of his face deepening as he slowly took in Gale's words. "Hurt anybody?"

Gale shook his head before mumbling defiantly, "I didn't aim at them. If I did, they would be dead. I aimed at their drinks instead, and—"

"Son, what did I tell you about hurting innocent drinks? That could've been Betsy's family!" Haymitch cut in. I shot him an annoyed look, and was instantly perplexed by the genuine look of distress he sported across his alarmingly tired features.

Gale responded with a piercing glare, causing Haymitch to blink before letting out a quick sigh. "Nevermind. I actually came over here to herd you two up for dinner," he said, almost as an afterthought. He turned on his heel and gestured for Gale and I to follow. I watched as the back of his aged torso shook with quiet laughter before he murmured under his breath, "Effie's going to have a fit."

I hesitated, but ended up forcing my legs to carry me in Haymitch's direction. Gale almost instinctively made his way to my side before matching my pace.

We all walked in a smothering silence, our footsteps the only sound echoing through the narrow hallways. The back of Gale's hand occasionally brushed against mine, the touch as light as a falling leaf, but still electrifying nonetheless.

I felt a tremble run up my arm at this contact before unconsciously giving him a sideways glance. He was already looking at me out of the corner of his eye, his deep gray irises thoughtful and apologetic. His dark hair had fallen over them, and I suddenly felt an urge to reach up and brush it away.

I pushed my lips together before forcing myself to tear my gaze away from him.

Almost on cue, Gale tentatively inched closer to my walking figure until I could feel the heat radiating from his toned forearm through the thin sleeves of his burgundy tunic. He bent down slightly, his lips tickling the top of my ear as he whispered directly into it, "The Gamemakers won't be able to hurt us in the arena. I won't let them."

A shudder rushed through me at his words, and I was suddenly thankful for the dim lighting in the hallways as a blush slowly began to stain my cheeks. "Me neither," I murmured shakily in response.

Gale let out a quiet chuckle before redirecting his gaze towards Haymitch in front of us. "I know."

Effie, Cinna, and Portia were waiting at the table by the time we had all entered the dining room. Bowls filled to the rim with fish soup and a big basket of golden, flaky bread rolls were in front of them, untouched.

Cinna flashed the three of us a shining grin before explaining, "Effie insisted that it wouldn't be proper to eat until everyone joined us."

"Of course," Effie chimed in, a hint of annoyance apparent in her tone, "it also isn't proper to be eight minutes late to dinner, especially when there are people waiting."

She kept a steady glare on us as we swiftly took seats at the table. Great, she was already in a bad mood.

An Avox obediently set bowls of soup in front of us. Hot steam blew across my face as I curiously looked into it, filling my nose with a salty scent. I silently wished for a platter of lamb stew as I picked up a spoon and took tiny sips of the liquid.

Portia was just beginning to open her mouth when Haymitch cut in. "All right, enough small talk. The boy has something to fess up to."

I felt Gale stiffen next to me. The three adults sitting across from us looked at him expectantly, holding their spoons still above their cooling soup.

Haymitch continued to eat sloppily, despite the sudden wave of discomfort that rushed over the table. "Go on," he grumbled, reaching over my food to grab a roll from the basket, "Out with it, boy."

I saw Gale push his lips into a stern line for a split second at Haymitch's words before he blurted out, "I threw a spear at the Gamemakers."

"You _what?"_ The horror in Effie's tone confirmed my worst suspicions. I unintentionally shot her a distressed look as she gaped openmouthed at Gale.

Cinna and Portia tensed in their seats, their eyes blank and their faces drained of color.

"I didn't hurt anyone," Gale stressed, seeing their reactions. They relaxed slightly in their seats.

Effie had grown to an almost violet shade, her arms trembling as she continually opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water before she finally spoke. _"Why?"_

"They were drunk...and not even pretending to be concerned for my future, which really should be expected," Gale said, the acidity in his tone almost making me flinch.

"So, you just threw a spear in their general direction? Did you even aim?" Portia asked quietly, her mouth pulled into a strained line.

"Of course I aimed," he responded, sounding almost offended, "The spear shattered the punch bowl before sticking right into their table. A good shot, which they would've recognized if they weren't so senselessly drunk."

"What did they say?" Cinna asked, now completely composed and taking small bites of the soup in front of him.

"Nothing. At least nothing in front of me. I walked out of the room before anything else could happen," Gale said shamelessly.

"Without being _dismissed?"_ Effie gasped. She had regained her natural color, but her face was still twisted into a horrified grimace.

Gale shot her an incredulous look. "Do you really think I would wait politely to be dismissed after throwing a spear at them?"

The sound of Haymitch gulping down his soup soon became the only sound occupying the quietness around the table. He noticed, and swiftly wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before speaking. "Well, that's that."

I let out a breath that I didn't realize I had been holding. "They're not going to arrest him, right?" My voice was quiet and hesitant, causing Gale to give me a curious sideways glance.

"I really doubt it," Haymitch mumbled, "The worst they could do is make the arena terrible for you two, which you've already figured out."

Portia cleared her throat. "They already promised to do that to all the tributes every year. It'll be hardly any different," she said in a determined tone. Cinna grinned at her.

"That's true," I mumbled, feeling the panic that had been cemented in my heart gradually lift away from me. Gale gently nudged my arm with his elbow, as if he was saying _told you so._

I saw Haymitch quietly suppress a smile out of the corner of my eye. "What were their faces like, anyway?"

The corners of Gale's mouth curled up into a half-smile. "Astounded. Shocked. Horrified. One dropped his glass and ending up spilling his drink all over himself. I think another even squeaked."

Haymitch tilted his head back and guffawed, his mouth filled with bread. Everyone else followed suit, crinkling their eyebrows together as they laughed. Even Effie was holding a dainty hand over her mouth to try to hide the smile she was sporting.

"Serves them right. Those idiots should be looking at you if you're taking time to perform in front of them!" Haymitch choked out through his fits of laughter. Effie gave him an alarmed glance before he continued, "I like you, boy. Lots of spunk!"

Gale bit his lower lip before giving me a sheepish grin. I felt myself return the grin before giving him a gentle pat on the shoulder and quietly saying, "'Atta boy."

He let out a quiet chuckle. "At least Katniss will make up for my low score. Can't go disgracing District 12 completely, now, can we?" He asked in a loud voice through the laughter, eyeing me with playful eyes.

"Oh!" Cinna said, quickly composing himself, "We almost forgot. How did you do, dear?"

Everyone directed their gazes to me, their faces slightly flushed from their past merriment.

"Uh," I mumbled, feeling on-the-spot, "I shot some arrows. Got an applause."

"As I expected," Gale murmured through his smile.

I silently remembered the scene I encountered when I entered the gym, the Gamemakers disarrayed and out of their seats, the floors covered in sticky alcoholic punch. The only reason they were even looking at me was because of what Gale did. If he hadn't thrown that spear, who knows how my performance could have went?

The corners of my mouth were tugged into a warm smile as I unconsciously gave Gale a grateful gaze. He returned it before patting the top of my head gingerly. "That's my Catnip."

* * *

We were all situated in the sitting room around the television, anxiously waiting for the scores to be broadcasted. The only thing on the screen at that moment was an unmoving picture of the Capitol seal, which will soon be replaced with shoulders-up pictures of the District 1 tributes. After about five seconds of the picture being up, the tributes' scores will appear in golden script below their images. As usual, District 12 was scheduled to be last.

Cinna, Portia, and Effie were sitting stiffly on a large white couch across from the couch Gale and I were sitting on, eyes glued to the screen. Haymitch slouched in a wooden chair he had dragged in from the dining room, and despite his lazy posture, he was gazing attentively at the television along with the rest of us.

The still screen suddenly changed, causing a slight gasp to come out of Effie. On the left-hand side flashed a square-shaped picture of the District 1 boy, lanky and short-haired with very blue eyes. On the right was a picture of the District 1 girl, blonde and slender. You could tell that the images were taken during training since they both sported a look of murderous intent. A nine appeared beneath the boy, and a seven for the girl. Average scores for Careers.

I watched as their faces disappeared from the screen and were soon replaced with pictures of Cato and Clove. I felt Gale clench his hands beside me before identical nines beamed under their pictures.

As other tributes' images came and went, I found myself wishing that they broadcasted their names, too. I tried to burn the faces of the ones to avoid into my mind, but since most of the non-Careers averaged at a five, I didn't have to remember much.

The District 10 tributes were soon on the television. The girl had dark brown hair and looked aged from worry, and the boy was hauntingly small, although he was obviously older than twelve. I recognized his face as the boy I had seen limping around the gymnasium on a crippled foot. A shudder ran through me as I saw the two flash beneath his picture.

They were quickly replaced by pictures of Thresh and Rue. I felt myself unconsciously lean forward in my seat as I studied Rue's image, her dark eyes filled with innocence and her mouth almost curled into a smile.

The seconds ticked by slowly before their scores finally showed up on the screen. I inwardly gasped at Rue's seven. Her birdlike leaps must have been impressive to the judges.

Thresh's eight was nothing to turn a nose up at, either. I silently recalled watching him handle the weapons with ease during training, and knew that the Careers would doubtlessly try to make him an ally. I felt myself tense up, only calmed when I remembered what Rue had said in the elevator.

_"And that's Thresh. You shouldn't be scared of him."_

I pursed my lips together as I examined his picture, his almost emotionless face, his dark skin adorned with bulging muscles. Even with the trust I felt myself developing for Rue, it was difficult not to be scared of him.

Pictures of Gale and I soon took the place of theirs on the television screen, making everyone in the room stiffen. Gale's picture had him looking to the side, flashing a half-smirk to whatever he was looking at. Mine simply had me staring at the ground with a blush painted across my cheeks. Lovely.

I heard Haymitch let out a quiet snort at this, but everyone else's concentration was unwavering as we waited for the scores to come up.

I dug my nails into my palms in anticipation, feeling a suffocating lump form in my throat at I stared anxiously at the screen.

Then I saw two identical elevens pop up.

Everyone in the room was taken aback. We all seemed to simultaneously lean back in our chairs, shake our heads, even rub our eyes in disbelief. Then everyone was booming with cheers. Tears of happiness were streaming down Portia's face, and Effie's cheeks were flushed as she continuously squealed.

"Holy shit!" Haymitch yelled at the top of his lungs. Effie shot him a glare. Cinna got up from his seat and gave both Gale and I congratulatory pats on the shoulders.

I was still gaping wide-eyed at the screen. "How...?" I stammered, the shining elevens burning into my vision.

"Guess they liked the boy's temper!" Haymitch said with a guffaw. I found myself wondering how the wooden chair underneath him wasn't breaking as he ferociously cheered, "And you just had it in you, sweetheart!"

I immediately whipped my head around to beam up at Gale, who was already smiling down at me.

"Well, there's still room for improvement there," he said warmly. I felt the grin on my face widen as he pulled me into a playful hug. This time, I didn't hesitate before wrapping my arms around him.

We had all ended up staying in the sitting room for a long while, even when the District 12 scores were replaced by the Capitol seal on the screen. When everyone had calmed down, their bursting relief and happiness taken over by pure giddiness, we ended up talking about our interviews. Cinna and Portia's faces lit up at the subject, but they still refused to reveal anything about the costumes. Haymitch looked more tired than anything at the thought, knowing that he and Effie would have to start coaching us the next day.

Effie had begun to panic halfway through the conversation, worrying about how the fake relationship would escalate on stage. Haymitch had raised his eyebrows before thoughtfully gazing at the carpet and stating, "Let's cross that bridge when we get to it."

Surprisingly, Effie didn't press on the subject. It made me feel a little uneasy, but I was too dizzy from the delight of seeing the scores that I didn't question it.

After everyone was worn out, we all bid each other goodnight and went off to our own separate chambers. Gale walked me practically all the way to my door before pausing and gazing at me, looking like he was holding back from a great temptation. After a few moments of silence, he swallowed hard and patted the top of my head with a crooked smile before going off to his own chamber.

I replayed today's events over and over in my head as I laid motionless under the covers of my bed, exhausted and worn out, particularly from the stress. Soon, I found myself drifting off, relieved, reprieved, and with the twin elevens still flashing behind my eyelids.

* * *

I awoke with a yawn, lazily stretching myself awake as light shined through the blinds covering the window and across my face. I blinked my eyes into focus, pleased with the fact that my slumber wasn't interrupted by the seemingly reoccurring nightmares I had been having lately.

The elevens instantly popped into my mind again. I silently wondered how the other tributes reacted when they saw it. Were they frightened? Jealous? Maybe even angry, thinking that we had made some deal with the Gamemakers?

Images of Cato and Clove's faces, flushed with anger and disbelief while staring at our scores, took over my mind. With a smirk, I scooted myself out of the bed and padded my way into my bathroom. Maybe now they'll think twice before targeting Gale and I.

I peered into the mirror in the bathroom and frowned. I had forgotten to change out of my training clothes before going to bed last night, and the burgundy tunic was now wrinkled and ridden up against my torso. My once very neatly braided hair was now a frizzy mess on top of my head, and my black leggings had ridden up my thighs and twisted around my legs.

With a sigh, I swiftly undressed and hopped into the shower, careful of which buttons I pressed on the panel as the water slowly began streaming out of the shower head.

I figured out that the buttons were arranged into four columns for water temperature, water pressure, soaps, and sponges. I experimented with them, but to my dismay, came out smelling like a mixture of watermelons and roses.

I tried to hurry as I dressed myself in clothes from the dressing area before setting my tunic and leggings out on the bed, not knowing what else to do with them. My hair was hastily braided down my back before I headed to the dining room.

It was eerily quiet as I walked through the narrow hallways. Thoughts of all the other tributes, just floors below me, made me feel slightly uneasy. I silently wondered if Rue and Thresh were ever bothered by the sounds we made on the District 12 floor, or if the booming of our footsteps was ever audible through their ceiling.

I unconsciously made my steps lighter against the carpet before being roused by a voice from behind me.

"Hey, Catnip."

I whirled around, startled by Gale's sudden appearance. I involuntarily gave him a grin before lowering my head and mumbling, "You really need to stop sneaking up on me."

I watched as the front of his torso shook with silent laughter. "I wasn't even trying to be quiet that time. And you call yourself a hunter," he teased.

We made our way to the dining room together, still filled with euphoria from our training scores. Haymitch and Effie were already sitting side-by-side at the table, ignoring the food in front of them and instead talking to each other in hushed voices.

This came off as strange to me, but I saw the platter of lamb stew on the table and immediately dismissed Effie and Haymitch before shoveling some on a plate for myself. Gale followed suit, and we were soon the only ones eating at the table.

About halfway through my mound, I looked up curiously at our two mentors, only to see that Effie was sporting a slightly distressed look and Haymitch was trying to hold back laughter. I narrowed my gaze at them before saying, "Is there something going on?"

Haymitch instantly jumped in. "Today's coaching. You know that, right sweetheart?"

I hesitantly nodded my head before raising an eyebrow at him. Gale was already done with his plate of food, and he began to give the two mentors in front of us distrusting glances.

"Well," Effie started, her eyes darting across the room, "You both know your angle, right?"

Gale and I exchanged a look before nodding together. I felt a wave of uneasiness rush over me as Effie pushed her lips together and said, "We really need to make the relationship between you two believable. The interviews are the perfect time to do that."

They were wearing down on my patience. I gave them both the most convincing glare I could muster before mumbling, "Just get on with it."

Haymitch couldn't hold back the smile that twisted his features after that. "The one thing the Capitol hasn't seen you two do yet," he mumbled, dragging the syllables in a way that made me gulp, "is kiss."

* * *

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! **


	10. Chapter 10

**A huge thank you to everyone who is reading and reviewing!**

* * *

_**The Hunger Games **_**belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

A breath got caught in my throat as a flurry of emotions surged through my chest in a matter of seconds. Haymitch's amused smile seemed to bore through me, making my torso tremble in unease.

I felt Gale stiffen beside me before clenching his fists under the table. "You can't be serious," he muttered quietly, avoiding my gaze as venom began creeping into his tone, "Not during the interviews. Not in front of those _people_ who are going to be watching us fight to death for _entertainment._" By the end of his sentence, he was practically hissing out his words.

Haymitch clenched his jaw, pushing his thin, chapped lips together over his teeth as his smile faded away. "Is it really that much different from what you two have been doing already?"

I narrowed my eyes, not knowing how to respond. Kissing for the sake of our angle in front of a live crowd really wasn't that much different from hugging in front of cameras, so why did just the thought make my chest flutter? I unconsciously gave Gale a sideways glance, only to see that underneath his scowl was something that looked like muddled worry.

Gale exhaled sharply and crinkled his eyebrows together before glaring thoughtfully at the table. "It's just—"

"That you don't want to be forced to reveal that much of your personal life to the Capitol?" Haymitch cut in, leaning back in his chair so that the front legs of it were hovering above the floor. "Suck it up. If you want to survive, you're going to have to swallow that stubborn pride of yours, son."

I watched as Gale's scowl swiftly deepened, etching lines of distaste on the otherwise smooth skin that surrounded his mouth. I swallowed hard, silently thinking back to the time he had first found out about the angle.

_"I don't want anything fake. Especially not with you..."_

Gale was never the type of person to change himself for the satisfaction of others. He would do as he pleased, remaining as solid as a rock while others molded to his touch. He was never afraid to voice his opinion, never afraid of the judgment that might be thrown in his direction. Now, he needs to answer orders helplessly, almost like a puppet, just for the chance of getting more sponsors.

This must be killing him.

I was roused from my thoughts by Haymitch breaking the silence around the table with a loud grunt. He leaned forward, making the front legs of his chair hit the floor with a bang. "Don't act like you weren't waiting for a chance like this," he said in a gravelly voice, peering at Gale mischievously through slitted eyes, "You should be more appreciative. I'm throwing you a bone."

A hardly noticeable flush appeared on Gale's tanned cheeks, but he remained silent. I shifted uncomfortably in my chair.

Haymitch slouched lazily, savoring the silence lingering around the table as he forced himself to take a sip of the water in front of him with a grimace. I half-expected him to whip out his flask, but the shadows circling his sunken eyes led me to believe that he had been avoiding alcohol altogether lately.

"All right," he mumbled, scooting his chair out and sluggishly getting to his feet, "Now that we're all feeling significantly more awkward, let's get this coaching started."

Effie's eyes shot up at us for the first time in what felt like hours. "I have to prepare! Haymitch, you take them first," she trilled, making her way clumsily out of the dining room in heels that made her at least five inches taller than usual.

I let out a sigh, feeling the glee from the training scores slowly slip away from me. "So, what's the schedule?" I asked absently, getting up from my chair. Gale got up from his shortly after.

"Four hours with me, lunch, then four hours with Effie," Haymitch stated in a bored tone.

"What do you and Effie have to teach us that will take four hours each?" Gale asked, his shoulders squared in exasperation.

Haymitch's mouth quirked at the corner before he swiftly turned away from Gale and I and headed out of the dining room, gesturing for us to follow. He ended up taking us to the sitting room and directing us toward one of the couches before sitting himself down on the coffee table, its legs whining under his weight. He began to rub at the stubble carpeting his chin with a thoughtful hand, frowning at us as we all sat in silence.

At first, I thought that he was studying us, but as the seconds ticked away, it seemed more like he was trying to kill time. I narrowed my eyes, feeling increasingly more irritated as my hands knotted into fists on my lap. "What—"

"Shhh," Haymitch hushed in a demanding tone, his gaze unwavering.

I pushed my lips together impatiently before feeling the corners on my mouth curl downwards. Haymitch continued to rake Gale and I with his glassy eyes, pausing occasionally to glare at one of our more dissatisfying features.

Gale exhaled sharply. "Stop—"

"Shhh!" Haymitch said, more loudly this time. He wrinkled his forehead theatrically.

I rolled my eyes before feeling Gale lean lazily into the cushions of the couch. I followed his example. This could take a while.

After a few more minutes of this, Haymitch swiftly slapped his hands onto his knees and got to his feet. "Nope. Got nothin'."

"Wait, what?" Gale asked, eyeing our mentor with wariness.

"I've been trying to think of what to do with you two," Haymitch said, shrugging his shoulders lightly, "but you're both about as interesting as drywall. So far, we've got everyone fooled with your top training scores and unforgettable costumes, but your personalities..." Haymitch gave us both an exaggerated wince.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I countered, my voice coming out more squeaky than I intended.

Haymitch let out a quick chuckle, obviously amused by my reaction. "What I _mean_ is that people won't start tripping over each other to sponsor you two if you just kiss. You both still need memorable personalities, as well." His gaze drifted toward Gale, who was still leaning exasperatedly against the couch cushions. "Maybe not him, actually. He's too pretty."

A flare of annoyance flickered behind Gale's ashen eyes, but he composed himself with a quick sigh. "Okay, then. What are we going to do?"

A smirk played on Haymitch's thin lips. "Hmm...Let's see. Aloof? Arrogant? Charming? Humble? Sexy...?" His eyes flickered to me before he stifled a fit of laughter, "Nevermind, definitely not the last one."

I felt a pout play on my features before seeing Gale out of the corner of my eye grin at my reaction and reassure me with a gentle nudge.

"Now, lucky for you two, hostile and sullen are also approaches," Haymitch stated, his voice drifting off, "but that's usually reserved for the more intimidating tributes."

I couldn't help myself from picturing Thresh taking a seat for his interview, his face twisted into a permanent glare as he refused to answer questions with more than a few words. If only I was his size, then I wouldn't have to worry about coming off as likable. I unconsciously deepened the pout on my face.

Haymitch squared his shoulders before peering over at Gale thoughtfully, his smile dropping from his face as his tone suddenly became serious. "I can picture you as arrogant. That could even end up coming off as charming."

I felt myself visibly tense at the thought of Capitol women swooning over Gale in their seats.

"And you," Haymitch's slurred tone caught my attention as his eyes swept over to me, "You could come off as a lot of things."

"Great," I blurted out without thinking. If I had learned one thing from sitting at home and begrudgingly watching previous games, it was that tributes without an eye-catching, obvious trait hardly ever caught sponsors' interests.

"What about fierce? Or determined?" Gale suggested, a look of pride in his eyes, "She could pull that off without even trying."

I felt a blush faintly color my cheeks, which only succeeded in irritating me even more. Haymitch must have noticed since he raised a skeptical brow before saying, "Okay. Go on, delight me."

"Uh," I responded lamely, not knowing what to say.

Haymitch sighed before shooting me the most obvious interview question there was. "Are you confident in your ability to come out as the victor?"

_No_, I thought harshly. If anyone was going to be the victor, it would be Gale. A number of seconds passed as I cringed in my seat, knowing that a tribute going for a fierce or determined approach should have answered immediately. "Yeees...?" I said quietly, mentally slapping myself afterwards. Gale gave me a quizzical glance.

"Okay. Fierce is not going to happen," Haymitch stated matter-of-factly.

I felt Gale stiffen beside me. "Why does she even need an approach? She's fine and dandy just being herself," he defended, making me feel a little guilty.

Haymitch took a seat back on the coffee table. "I'm thinking the same thing, boy," he mumbled before directing his gaze back to me. "Just answer the questions, sweetheart. Don't let the audience know how openly you despise them, as we should be fine."

I couldn't help but feel anger well up inside my chest. At least two hours had already passed, and we hadn't made any progress on my approach at all. The only possible thing that could give me the least bit of depth would be...a breath caught in my throat.

As if he could read my thoughts, Haymitch suddenly piped up. "Time to work on that other angle! Let's see you two kiss."

Gale and I seemed to simultaneously tense up before giving Haymitch a skeptical glare. The mentor responded by creasing his eyebrows together defensively. "We want this kiss to be believable, otherwise it won't even be worth doing," he muttered, waving a dismissive hand, "but if you two want to practice _in private_, then so be it."

A shudder ran through me, and I immediately pushed the thought to the back of my mind. "We should work more on individual angles, Haymitch. Gale hasn't even practiced his."

Haymitch shrugged his shoulders before agreeing. I let out a quiet sigh of relief before glancing in Gale's direction, only to be perplexed by the slight look of disappointment he was sporting.

The next couple of hours included Gale trying out a number of approaches and me attempting to answer traditional interview questions with a cheery attitude. Haymitch seemed uncharacteristically patient as he suggested answers for us to memorize and cite on stage, which included our love for our families and our hunting abilities. We spent a long time deciding on whether or not Gale and I should elaborate on our past together, and ended up deciding that, during my interview, I would try to exaggerate it to the point where it seemed that we wouldn't be able to survive without each other. Which, in a way, was completely true.

Our fourth hour was almost up, and Haymitch decided to go through a quick run-through of what we had learned.

"...Now, since I know you two can't do anything by yourselves," Haymitch started, and despite the obvious insult, his tone was warmer than usual, "I'll tell you how to work that kiss in. Katniss will be interviewed first, and she'll sit there and look pretty while hinting at the relationship going on between you both. Then, Gale will go up and answer a few questions." The mentor took the time to lock his eyes with Gale's before continuing, "Try to steer the questions toward Katniss. Eventually, some kind of variation of, 'How much do you love her?' will come up. And then, get out of your seat and go for it."

I couldn't stop myself from tensing up again. No matter how much it was brought up, the thought of kissing Gale just couldn't seem to sink in.

Haymitch got to his feet before stretching his arms above his head and letting out a strained sigh. He took a tense stance before mumbling, "Don't mess this up. Either of you. Make it believable."

I swallowed hard, but forced myself to nod. My cheeks had been getting continually more red for the past hour. By now, they were probably beets.

"Lunch time!" Effie's voice rang through the hallway, beckoning the three of us out of the sitting room. Walking only made the fact that my legs were rigid and achy from sitting more prominent in my mind, but that was soon soothed with the thought of warm food in my stomach.

I was delighted to see a platter of lamb stew and wild rice in the center of the table again, and practically dived into the plate with a spoon when we had all seated ourselves around it. I had succeeded in scarfing down half a plate when Effie caught my attention by clearing her throat loudly.

"Honestly! I might as well start my coaching now, and that means you are going to have to eat like a lady, Katniss," she chimed, her glare sweeping over me and resting on Gale, "That means you, too."

"What?" Gale clamored in mock-horror, his voice muffled around his mouthful of stew, "I'll have you know that I eat in the most ladylike way possible." He proceeded to rest both of his elbows on the table and continue to shovel the stew into his mouth. I couldn't stop myself from chuckling at Effie's horrified reaction.

After lunch, Effie practically swept Gale and I up to her chamber, babbling about keeping our backs straight and not dragging our feet the entire way. I watched as the anger behind Gale's irises increased with every, "Didn't they ever teach you two_ manners _in District 12?"

She threw open the door to her chamber, the bright white and pink walls instantly stinging my eyes as I walked onto the plush carpet. Gale sat himself on a distant wooden chair as Effie dragged me into her closet and, much to my discontent, slipped me into a full-length gown and heels. The gown was white and low-cut down the back, making my bare, protruding shoulder blades frame my braid.

Effie proceeded to drag me back out of the closet, making me trip over my feet in an effort to follow her. As soon as I waddled into Gale's view, he began to stifle back fits of laughter. His eyes raked down my body before landing on the pale blue heels I was in. "If you can walk in those, surviving in the arena should be a cinch," he mumbled, eyebrows raised.

Effie shot him a glare. "Be quiet while I'm working with her, or I'll have you in heels next." That shut him up.

For the next hour, Effie had me struggling to walk across the room. The gown kept getting tangled around the shoes, and the carpet kept making them fall to the side, making my ankles scream in pain. The only thing that kept me from kicking off the shoes in Effie's direction was the fact that she ran around in them full-time, and the determination to conquer anything she was capable of.

Gale seemed thoroughly amused when I had succeeded in walking without a single wobble, but his eyes instantly turned as sharp as a hawk's when Effie yelled corrections at me.

"Straighten your legs! Hands at your sides! Don't twist up your face in concentration like that!" Effie's trilling voice pierced my ears like needles, making me purse my lips together in frustration.

The gown was bothersome, and it would be so much easier to walk if it didn't get in the way of my heels. At this thought, I hiked it up my shins and Effie proceeded to give the back of my hands a swift slap.

I heard Gale let out a sharp exhalation from across the room. "I think she's good with walking now," he mumbled through a clenched jaw.

Effie let out a sigh, unaffected by the venom in Gale's tone. "She's _decent_. It's a good thing Cinna won't have her in heels as high as those."

I shot Effie an exasperated glare, but couldn't help but feel a little grateful. The shoes Cinna would put me in for the interviews would feel like nothing after wearing these, at least.

I swapped places with Gale as Effie ushered him to the center of the room. I sat myself down on the chair and slid the heels off my now swollen feet in relief before rubbing my sore ankles.

"Straighten your back," Effie said in an even tone, studying Gale's posture. He obeyed after a lot of hesitation, his usual slouch soon disappearing. I watched as the lean curve of his back became more prominent under his slim-fitting shirt, making a curious rush of warmth color my cheeks.

Effie quickly circled around Gale, making him stiffen under her vision. The muscles in his arm tightened as she prodded them with manicured fingernails, and his eyebrows furrowed together after each glance she sent to his face.

"Well," she said, taking a few steps back, "Nothing much to do with you. The Capitol ladies will practically eat you up the moment you step on stage with that camera-ready face of yours."

I felt my body tense as a familiar feeling of possession rushed through me, making my eyes narrow in annoyance. Effie must have noticed because she quickly gestured for me to stand by his side, causing me to quickly pad my way over on my now bare feet.

"Now," she chimed, her painted lips spreading into a grin to reveal her unnaturally white teeth. "Give me a smile. Both of you."

My cheeks twitched as I forced the sides of my mouth the curl upward. Gale looked like he was just pushing his lips together into a stern line.

Effie let out a sigh. "I should've known with the two of you," she murmured, rubbing her left temple.

For the next couple of hours she had us walk with perfect posture around the room, sit down the proper ways on chairs she had set out, and flash smiles on cue. By the time she thought we had mastered posture and walking, she had us say banal phrases with a smile, while smiling, or ending with a smile. This wore on Gale's patience the most, and by the last half hour, he was shooting scowls in Effie's direction instead of grins.

"Good enough," Effie sighed, plopping herself down onto her bed. Her tired features seemed to rejuvenate as a single thought crossed her mind. "Did Haymitch work with your star-crossed lover angle, yet?"

Her eager voice made me flinch uncomfortably. "Yes," I answered, feeling Gale's gaze wander in my direction.

Effie's thin eyebrows promptly raised at that. "Okay then," she said with a sparkle in her dark eyes, "Let me see that jaw-dropping kiss."

I should have known that this was what she was talking about. I pressed my lips together before slowly sneaking a sideways glance in Gale's direction, only to see that he was already surveying my face with deep, wondering eyes.

"Come on," Effie pushed, "There can't be this much hesitance on the stage. The crowd will never buy it."

Never buy it? Would that mean, after everything we've been through, Gale and I would still be left sponsor-less in the arena?

I let out a sharp breath before swiftly turning on my heel, making myself face Gale with a strong look of determination, despite my now pounding heart. His eyebrows flew up at my sudden movement, and a look of surprise instantly taking over his features. His cheeks faintly glowed in the bright light of Effie's chamber.

My heart began to leap into my throat as I proceeded to stand on my tiptoes, my hands grazing Gale's shoulders to steady myself. He promptly leaned down to get to my eye level and...

I let my lips brush across the hollow of his cheek, as light as a feather. Just this was enough to send my heart knocking intensely against my ribcage, and I had to turn away. My now muffled ears just barely picked up the sound of Effie disappointedly groaning.

"Work on that," she stated simply before walking over to my side and tugging me over to the closet. I was thankful, since the muscles in my legs had just started to spasm and I found it difficult to control my shaking knees.

I slowly began to compose myself inside the closed doors of the closet as I let Effie slip the gown off of me and dress me in my normal clothes.

"I thought you said that Haymitch went through the angle with you two," she mumbled harshly, handing me the leather boots I had been wearing with a slight grimace.

"He did," I responded with a pout, working my feet into the boots, "He didn't go through the _kiss_, though."

Effie flashed what looked like a genuine grin in my direction. It was the first I had seen out of her since we arrived at the Training Center. "But you went for it, anyway. Cinna was right, you truly are a Girl on Fire."

I didn't know whether that was an insult or a compliment, but before I could ask, Effie was pushing me out of the closet. Gale was still standing dumbstruck in the center of the room where we had left him.

"That was a great reaction, from both of you!" Effie gushed, taking a seat back on her bed. "So genuine, so true."

I felt a shudder pulse through me. _That's because it was._

"But next time, aim for the mouth," she added simply. I watched as Gale's ashen eyes widened, but he responded with an obedient nod.

* * *

I had expected the table to be adorned with another overflowing platter of lamb stew for dinner, but I was greeted instead by an herb-roasted chicken on a bed of steamed vegetables. It looked good, but I still felt my stomach constrict in disappointment. This began to make me worry about the Capitol food making me picky, so I pushed the thoughts of the stew to the back of my mind.

As we ate, I watched Gale out of the blurred part of my vision continually shoot me quick sideways glances. It made me feel on edge, but I decided to pretend not to notice.

Haymitch and Effie were filling Cinna and Portia in on the events that took place during coaching. Effie was leaving out the part where I almost fainted in an attempt to kiss Gale, and I felt immensely grateful.

"We're putting the finishing touches on the interview costumes, ourselves," boasted Portia, cutting a steaming piece of meat off of the chicken leg on her plate before popping it in her mouth with a fork.

Cinna grinned down at his food. "It's delicate work. The details are always the most important," he mumbled knowingly. The thin line of gold eyeliner circling his hazel eyes reflected in the lighting of the dining room.

"Did you decide on their individual approaches, yet?" Effie interrupted, giving Haymitch a curious glance.

Haymitch cleared his throat sloppily, not bothering to hide the chewed food in his mouth as he spoke. "The boy is arrogant and charming," he drew out the last word in a way that made Gale shoot him a glare, "and _she _is just being herself."

Everyone's eyes darted toward me, making me lower my gaze to the table in unease.

"The best angle I've heard yet," Cinna responded warmly.

Effie, on the other hand, seemed unpleased. "The tributes who get the most sponsors always have a _specific_ approach."

"Haymitch tried to find me one," I mumbled lamely, "None of them fit me."

"She's probably going to outshine everyone else, anyway," Gale cut in, surprising everyone slightly. He had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since we entered the dining room. "Katniss just being herself is better than centering the approach entirely around one attribute."

Everyone gave Gale a wondering glance, as if it was the most honorable thing he had ever said. Haymitch broke the moment with a gravelly laugh. "It would be, if she wasn't so sour." He began guffawing at his own joke, and I watched silently as Effie's stern look broke into a smile. I felt the corners of my mouth tugging upwards into a smirk.

"Like you're any better," I murmured, trying to give Haymitch the most convincing glare I could muster.

After the chicken was stripped of most of its meat, the adults began to separate back into their own chambers. They each bid Gale and I goodnight after taking the time to wish us good luck, which only succeeded in reminding me that the interviews were just around the corner, making my chest tense in anxiety.

Haymitch was the last to leave, and a shadow passed over his features as he registered my uneasiness. "You'll do fine, sweetheart," he mumbled, barely audible as he made his way over to my side and gave my shoulder a swift, reassuring slap. He directed his gaze over to Gale, his tone becoming more playful. "Don't miss." And with that, he left the room, leaving Gale and I alone at the table.

I cleared my throat quietly before getting up from my chair. "We should go to bed, too," I mumbled before absently giving Gale a thoughtful glance. He raised a single eyebrow before gazing up at me with his piercing gray irises, making me freeze in place.

"We have to do something, first," he said, almost matter-of-factly, before getting up from his chair and stepping toward me.

I felt my eyes widen. "What are you...?"

The corner of his mouth quirked up in response before he wrapped his gentle fingers around my wrist. "Practice."

I involuntarily let myself gulp, and watched as Gale's eyes wandered to my throat as I did so. He pursed his lips before inching his face closer to mine, studying my reaction carefully through slitted eyes. He brought a warm hand to the small of my back and gingerly pulled me closer to him, letting me feel the warmth radiating off of his torso through the fabric of his shirt.

I let my eyes droop closed, shuddering as I felt the soft caress of his breath blow across my cheek. It wasn't like in Effie's chamber; this time, I felt as if I was completely prepared, like it was somehow natural. I was eager, even.

My heart seemed to swell in my chest, making my breaths come out shaky as I tentatively raised my head to near Gale's. His arms slid tighter around me, enveloping me in a comforting warmth and sending a dizzying sense of weightlessness pulsing through my veins. I couldn't help but imagine the pressure of his slightly chapped lips against mine, making the muscles in my legs tremble in anticipation.

That was why when I had instead felt the brush of his soft kiss against my cheek, I couldn't help but flutter my eyes open questioningly.

Gale was gazing down at me with a sheepish, almost pained grin. "Never thought it would be this difficult," he breathed, almost soundlessly.

I creased my eyebrows together, unintentionally letting a pout tug at the side of my mouth. A million things were rushing through my mind, but the only response that passed through my lips was, "I know."

His grip around me loosened slightly, but his gray eyes were still fixated on mine. "I don't mean _that _kind of difficult. It's just..." He paused, thinking over his words before continuing, "It feels almost wrong to do. You look like you're forcing yourself."

I involuntarily shot Gale a skeptical look from under my eyelashes. Did he really think I was forcing myself when I was practically melting pliantly in his arms?

After a lot of thought, I pushed my lips together and let my head weakly nod in agreement, immediately regretting it afterwards.

Gale frowned before slowly taking a step back and loosening his hold around my torso, separating us almost completely. The moment he did, I felt like something essential was torn out of my grasp. "We don't have to do it, then. The kiss, I mean," he murmured, a flash of hurt faintly flickering behind his hardened eyes.

"No—" I squeaked, almost right after he had said it. I quickly tried to redeem myself by lowering my eyes to the floor and mumbling, "It's for the sponsors. We're going to need them in the arena." Gale let out a quiet chuckle, making me dart my attention back to him quizzically.

"I'll make sure not to mess up on stage, then," he said simply, his lips tightening into a smile.

The smile was crooked, and obviously faked. It almost hurt to look at, especially after being given so many of his genuine smiles earlier in the day. I sucked in a sharp breath before muttering, "We should get some rest."

"Yeah," Gale agreed, taking time to absently brush a stray hair behind my ear before continuing. "I'll see you in the morning, Catnip."

I forced myself to nod meekly, watching as he slowly started to make his way out of the dining room. Before he reached the exit, he tentatively craned his neck to look at me before flashing another grin in my direction. "By the way, your cheeks are _really_ red."

* * *

I hadn't gotten a lot of sleep that night, much to my dismay. It seemed like I had just closed my eyes for two seconds when the light filtering through the curtains shined across my face, making me twist in my sheets restlessly.

"Oh, she's moving! I thought she was dead."

An insistent whisper registered at the back of my mind, but I quickly dismissed it. My eyelids were still too heavy for it to be morning.

"I don't think she's going to wake up."

"Should we splash water on her face?"

"Maybe. Make it icy cold."

"No, blazing hot. That always works best."

"Are you _crazy_? Do you _know _what that'll do to her skin?"

A groan escaped from my lips as the whispers gradually grew more loud, making it more difficult to ignore.

"See? You upset her."

"Not my fault."

"Just wait until I tell Cinna."

I gripped a bunch of my comforter in a fist before opening my eyes to slits. My vision slowly focused, only to reveal my entire prep team hanging over me. I instantly sat up, giving out a startled gasp.

"Yay! She's awake!" Octavia cheered, bouncing as she clapped her plump hands together. I drowsily gave her an incredulous look before something clicked at the back of my mind. Today was the day of the interviews.

I didn't bother to show any sign of protest as my prep team dragged me out of bed and to the bathroom, stripping me completely and immediately going to work on my skin. My eyes were still clouded with sleep as I curiously watched Venia whip out a gold powder and brush it onto my thigh thickly.

Coaching with Effie and Haymitch was over. They had done everything they could do to help me, and I was still hopelessly uninteresting. This thought lingered in my mind, making my chest sink as I felt multiple brushes and moisturizers rub against my body.

At this point, my only hope of being able to appear half as appealing as Haymitch expected me to be on stage was if Cinna made me so stunning, it wouldn't matter what came out of my mouth. Maybe his designs would do the impossible and save me, just as they had before the chariot ride.

But then again, even if everything else went terribly, I still had something to fall back on. Gale. He always did have a way with enchanting people, which he did unintentionally and obliviously. Our broadcasted relationship, as much as I hated to admit to myself, was probably the most interesting part of me.

I was set in a chair in the center of the bathroom, and ended up letting my eyes shut closed and give in to sleep. It was probably to my prep team's advantage, since my limbs wouldn't unconsciously jerk away at the sight of tweezers if they were limp with slumber.

When I awoke again, it was late into the afternoon and my skin was already made to look like glowing satin. My arms were penciled with subtle white designs and my twenty nails were filed and painted with flames.

"Good morning, sunshine," Flavius said in a cheerful tone, already more than halfway through curling my dark hair. Octavia was rubbing a clear substance into the strands, making the curls fall glossily in a curtain around my shoulders.

"I was beginning to think that she was going to sleep through the interviews," Venia muttered. She was on the opposite side of the bathroom filling a metal tray up with different assortments of make-up. She quickly made her way over to me before handing the tray to Octavia and taking control of my hair, loosely braiding it to the side and making it fall down my right shoulder in a wave.

Octavia and Flavius went to work with the makeup, brushing my face with precision as they erased my features with a layer of pale powder and drew them out again. It only took a couple of moments before they stepped away, revealing my new, airbrushed face to me in the mirror.

My lips were left alone, and when I asked, Octavia just giggled and chimed, "We don't want any makeup accidentally smearing onto the boy's mouth!" I felt myself visibly stiffen before she began applying dark makeup around my eyes, blocking my view of the mirror once again.

Cinna entered the bathroom with a big, black bag in his hands that zipped up the side. He responded to my confused gaze by gesturing to the bag with his gold-flecked eyes and explaining that he had covered the dress, still wanting it to be a surprise for everyone. His tone was warm with excitement.

I was brought to a tall mirror before being ordered to close my eyes. I obeyed, and almost instantly felt the silken material of the dress slide over my body. It must have weighed at least forty pounds, which gave me a start and almost made me lose my balance.

Someone offered me their hand, and I clutched it as I blindly stepped into a pair of shoes laid out neatly in front of me. They were cushioned on the inside, and at least four inches shorter than the heels Effie had me work in. I quietly let out a sigh of relief.

"Oh, she looks beautiful!" I heard Octavia squeal to my side. Warm hands adjusted the side of the dress as eager voices of approval rang from my prep team.

"Yes, she does," Cinna agreed softly, a smile apparent in his voice. "You can open your eyes now, Girl on Fire."

My eyes slitted open, and I was immediately given a start by the figure looking back at me in the mirror. I blinked my eyes ferociously in disbelief, making my eyelashes throw off bits of light as I peered at myself. My shining dark eyes and shimmering, smooth skin adorned with patterns of white flames just barely noticeable against the golden powder evenly brushed against my skin, complimenting the dress...Oh, the dress...

Its silken fabric was covered in flame-colored jewels around my torso, reflecting light with its precious gems in a way that made it seem like tongues of fire were licking up my sides. It was tight around my hips, complimenting my humble figure just as it cut off on my lower stomach and jutted out with flaring bits of fabric that stopped just above my knees. The heels felt sturdy under my feet, but looked as fragile as glass from the outside, making me look a lot more graceful than I really was. They seemed to reflect warm shades of orange and red, giving the illusion of fire sizzling at my feet.

It was no exaggeration to say that I was standing there with all the radiance of the sun.

We all stood in silence, just soaking in the genius of Cinna's work before I quietly choked out, "Thank you."

Cinna grinned, his gaze sweeping over me with confidence. "Twirl for me."

I obeyed, tearing my gaze away from the mirror before I slowly spun myself around. The flares of fabric grazing my thighs flew up and swayed together in blurs of warm colors, and the gems seemed to be awakened by the sudden movement as they immediately began to reflect light more colorfully, making the illusion of fire more vivid and bright. I heard my entire prep team squeal in admiration to my side, making my lips tighten into a smile.

"Perfect," Cinna said vacantly, sounding like he was talking to himself. His deep-in-thought expression was quickly broken by my prep team screaming shrill variations of, "I _need_ a dress like that for Snow's next party!"

Cinna proceeded to politely dismiss the prep team, making them disappointedly scatter out of the room, their voices growing small as they complained under their breaths. A sudden silence filled the air when the trio had left, making Cinna and I exchange a look of equal relief before he quickly directed his focus back to the dress.

"Is everything comfortable?" He asked, studying the delicate patterns swirling over my arms with adept eyes. I nodded in response, still slightly mesmerized by my own reflection.

Cinna had me spend the next couple of minutes walking along the tiled floors of the bathroom, getting a feel for the dress as I moved around in it. The shoes were infinitely more comfortable than the heels Effie had me in, making taking steps in them almost effortless. The dress was much shorter than the full-length gown, cutting off just at the end of my thighs, making it so that I wasn't tempted to hike it up when I walked.

"You're going to blow them away," Cinna mused. I slowly gave him a tensed, sheepish smile in response, which made him furrow his eyebrows questionably before asking, "Is something bothering you?"

I let out a quiet sigh before looking down at my feet, the reflective shoes almost making me lose my train of thought. "I'm going to ruin everything," I mumbled in a small voice, avoiding Cinna's gaze as my eyes began to nervously dart around the bathroom, "Everyone has such high expectations for me, but I couldn't even answer Haymitch when he was asking me interview questions during coaching. The only things I have going for me are your designs and Gale." My throat tightened by the end of the sentence, making my words seem more strained than I had intended.

I heard Cinna quietly click his tongue in thought before he replied. "You have no idea, do you? How brightly you're shining to both the citizens of the Capitol and the Gamemakers?" My eyes flew up to give him a confused stare, which made the corners of his lips curl into a grin. "Your spirit, Katniss. It has made you the center of attention, and you're so caught up in your faults that you're not even noticing it."

It took a moment for me to be able to respond after letting his words sink in. "My spirit?"

Cinna's grin widened, as if he was hoping that I'd ask. "The same spirit that made Haymitch go sober, made you score an eleven from the Gamemakers," he paused and pursed his lips before continuing, "...and made you volunteer for your sister."

I felt myself flinch at the thought of Prim, an image of her angelic face immediately taking up my thoughts. Cinna wandered over to my side and wrapped a light, encouraging arm around my shoulders before breaking the silence once more. "What I'm saying is that Haymitch wouldn't have told you to act like yourself if he thought you wouldn't do well."

I hesitantly nodded my head. It wouldn't be the first time I felt like I was undeserving of Cinna's confidence. His calm voice instantly roused me, as if he could read my thoughts. "Suppose that, during your interview, you were talking to a close friend instead of Caesar Flickerman. Perhaps...Gale?"

It was the first time I had heard Cinna refer to Gale by his name instead of 'the boy tribute.' I shot him a look before pressing my lips together in thought. "Yes, but that doesn't make sense," I muttered in an almost defeated tone, "He wouldn't be asking those questions. He already knows everything there is to know about me."

As if on cue, a knock on the door echoed throughout the bathroom. "Cinna, the boy is ready. Can we get a move on? Effie wouldn't be pleased if we're late." It was Portia, her voice filled with anxiousness.

Cinna wrinkled his eyebrows at the door, obviously not done with his pep talk. "Of course, Portia. Is the boy with you right now?"

"Yup." This time, it was Gale responding. His voice sent a rush of choking warmth through my chest. "The Capitol will probably like this suit, by the way. Very sparkly." There was an obvious edge of sarcasm in his tone, but the stylists seemed unaffected by it.

"Just wait until you see Katniss' dress," Portia said, loudly gripping the handle on the other side of the door, "Can we come in?"

I suddenly felt very self conscious, the makeup and dress weighing me down much more than it had a moment ago.

"Yes, we should all probably get going to the elevator, anyway," Cinna encouraged. I felt a horrified grimace twist my features as I fought a powerful urge to retreat and hide in a corner. I stood stiffly and watched the door fling open, revealing an impatient looking Portia and a slightly bored Gale. His features seemed to brighten at the sight of me, his eyebrows springing upward as he shamelessly let his gaze rake up and down my figure.

I unconsciously began to study him, a breath getting caught in my throat. His tanned skin seemed untouched by makeup, but his gray eyes were somehow made even more piercing and mesmerizing under his tousled raven hair. A black dress shirt was purposely buttoned messily and tightly around his chest, revealing a firm set of muscles under it. The same fiery effect was added to his dark, slim-fitting pants, but was much more subtle than the gems that wrapped around my torso.

"Wow," we both seemed to mumble simultaneously, causing chuckles to come out of the stylists.

"C'mon, we don't have all day. You two can ogle at each other later," Portia insisted, grabbing Gale by the arm and half-pulling him out of the room.

Cinna continued to chuckle quietly, his hazel eyes directed toward the floor as Portia and Gale took their exit. I made a move to follow them, but he stopped me by gently holding back my arm. "Wait a second."

He quickly responded to my questioning look, his words filled with the same confidence as earlier. "If you can't imagine Gale asking you the questions, what about me? Do you consider me a friend?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but was cut off by Portia intently calling for us from the hallway.

"I'll be sitting on the main platform with the other stylists in plain view. Just find me when you're asked a question," Cinna said, not waiting for my response before gesturing towards the bathroom door. "Shall we go? Before Portia rips my head off?"

I couldn't stop a smile from forming on my lips as I followed Cinna out of the room, suddenly feeling a wave of determination surge through me.

Gale and I could easily overtake the other tributes. We've already attracted more attention than the past District 12 tributes combined, wrecking through the competition with both the beauty and destruction of two, untamed fires.

* * *

**Thanks so much for reading!**


	11. Chapter 11

_**The Hunger Games**_** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

"Ready, Catnip?"

Cinna and I had caught up with Portia and Gale, and we were now making record time toward the elevator to meet up with Effie and Haymitch. I was walking beside Gale, and our two stylists were deep in conversation, keeping a steady pace behind us.

The interviews will take place in the City Circle outside of the Training Center; it had been swept clean for the occasion and filled up with a countless number of chairs for spectators. Like in past games, a raised stage was also added, as well as elevated seating units reserved for stylists so that cameras would have no trouble finding them while the crowd reacted to their designs. Balconies off of large buildings were usually used to seat Gamemakers and other prestigious guests, as well as cinematographers wanting birds-eye shots of the event.

"I'm unbelievablyready," I breathed, feeling lightheaded and weightless on my toes, "I just hope that it doesn't wear off before we go on stage."

Gale let out a chuckle before noting my dizzying steps and wrapping a firm arm around my shoulders to keep me grounded.

We rounded a corner, and Effie's voice immediately rang throughout the halls. "You think they're ready for smoochin'?"

"They better be," Haymitch responded, clearing his throat gratingly, "If they want the sponsors to be impressed, they need to practically rip each other's clothes off."

I tensed, and the stylists hurried ahead of Gale and I to make our presence known to Effie and Haymitch. I felt the determination that was just powerfully pulsing through my veins moments ago instantly drain away.

Gale, on the other hand, only let a flicker of discomfort flash across his features before he immediately composed himself. "Don't let it get to you," he pressed, his grip around my shoulders tentatively tightening.

"I'm not," I lied, instinctively inching closer into Gale's torso, just as I had in the woods on especially busy hunting nights for an extra sense of safety.

Haymitch let out a low whistle once Gale and I had come into his view, letting his glassy eyes study our costumes intently. "Wow," he mused, eyebrows raising at the fire effect the gems on my dress had, "These designs are actually making them seem slightly likable. And shiny. Mostly shiny."

"_Very_ shiny," Effie added, clasping an admiring hand over her painted lips, "Oh, Katniss, dear. You look so lovely."

I flashed her a pained grin, the muscles in my cheeks still overused from her coaching the day before.

As we all stepped into the elevator, I silently noted Haymitch's bare chin, signifying that he had shaved the peppery stubble from the lower half of his face. The two mentors had fancied themselves up thoroughly, and so had Portia, but Cinna remained in his simple black ensemble and golden eyeliner.

The elevator opened and revealed the first floor of the Training Center, and we were all immediately ushered outside of the building.

The City Circle looked completely different from the last time I had seen it, with its open space now tightly packed with arcs of chairs that were almost entirely filled up with curious Capitol citizens and dim lighting due to the falling of evening. The street lamps were turned off, leaving the towering stage as only part of the place that wasn't darkened and instead glowing with blinding, yellowish lights from above.

Portia and Cinna gravitated towards a platform where the other stylists had already been seated, and Effie and Haymitch set off to find seats in the restless crowd. I heard Effie hiss something about coming here too late under her breath before they dispatched, leaving Gale and I alone in the sea of people.

"Over here," Gale said, nudging me towards the stage. Most of the tributes were already in an organized line to the side of the platform, ready to make their grand entrances and broadcast themselves properly to all of Panem.

The District 1 girl was looking posh with her nose in the air, crossing her arms and disregarding the District 1 boy standing uncomfortably beside her. Clove and Cato were huddled closely together, perhaps battling the night air just beginning to settle down on the City Circle. They both had icy glares locked on Gale and I as we took our places at the end of the line.

All too soon, Caesar Flickerman, the man who has hosted the interviews for as long as I can remember, eagerly took the stage. Despite all the time that had passed, he sported the same young face that he had when he first started hosting, but now covered it in a thick layer of pale makeup under his excessively dyed hair. This year, it was a shade of powder blue, which matched his painted lips and eyelids almost exactly.

_"Hellooo, Capitol!"_ He yelled into the black microphone posed in his hand, twisting his face into a theatrical smile as he twirled around the stage. The crowd went crazy with applause as he told a few lively jokes to loosen them up. He adjusted the microphone on a stand and placed it near two armchairs in the center of the stage while he was still talking enthusiastically into it.

"Now tell me, Panem," Caesar said intensely, the cameras zooming in on his face, "Are. You._ Ready?!_ To meet your 74th Hunger Games_ TRIBUUUTES?!_"

A roar of cheers passed through the audience in a wave. The cinematographers violently whirled their cameras around to catch shots of the crowd, revealing them to the thousands of television sets tuned in around the country.

"Come on up!" Caesar yelled to the line of tributes next to the stage in a singsong voice, waving us onward as he plopped himself down in one of the armchairs. The audience continued to burst in acclamation as we walked in a single-file line towards the arc of chairs set up at the back of the stage. I could feel the cameras zooming in on us, making my breathing rapid and shallow. Gale gripped my hand comfortingly from behind me, which was shown clearly on the huge screens around the circle.

I quickly took my seat, relieved to not have to stand on my shaking legs. Gale let our linked hands dangle over our armrests, which was also noted by the cameras.

For a few minutes, all the tributes flashed strained smiles to the cameras and the audience, letting our applause carry on for much longer than was comfortable. I began to unconsciously fumble with the fabric of my dress as I tried to hide my nervousness with a mask of determination. Gale was very stiff beside me, and it was evident that he was avoiding the gaze of any of the Capitol citizens and instead locking his silver eyes on the wooden stage below us.

"Glimmer, it's your time to shine!" Caesar called out, hushing the audience almost immediately.

So that's what her name was. Glimmer. I will never understand the appeal of District 1 names; they sound too over-the-top and flashy. But then again, that's how most of the people from District 1 acted, too.

Glimmer didn't hesitate before getting up from her seat and gliding over to the armchair next to Caesar, letting her blonde hair flow behind her and around her slim figure, which was adorned with a see-through lace dress tightly wrapped around her body like a second layer of skin.

"So, I'm guessing your mentor is going for the sexy approach with you?" Caesar asked with a gleaming smile, his dyed eyebrows arching slightly.

Glimmer rolled her emerald eyes before pursing her glossy lips, as if it was the most obvious question in the world. "I'll just let everyone else decide that," she said in a provocative, hushed tone. The crowd went wild, the male voices standing out from the rest.

With a deep breath, I drained out the blaring sound of Glimmer's deafening applause and instead busied myself with the rules of the interviews, repeating them in my head in an attempt to distract myself from the many cameras swiveling around us like insects.

Each interview lasts only for three minutes, and then the tribute is forced to sit at the back of the stage again, despite if they were finished or not. A blaring buzzer will echo around the City Circle at the end of those three minutes. If you did well, the seconds should tick by quickly, and the audience should protest when you get out of the chair to leave.

They definitely did that with Glimmer as she made her way back to her seat, looking thoroughly disgusted with everyone around her.

"Marvel, buddy, let's see if you can top that!" Caesar chimed, snapping me out of my reverie. He eagerly clapped his hands together as the District 1 boy lazily got up from his seat and ambled to the armchair at the center of the stage.

I silently registered the tribute's crystal blue eyes and close-cropped hair, and instantly remembered seeing him exasperatedly following Glimmer around in the gym, his features twisted with exhaustion as he situated himself among the other Careers. He had a strong build like Cato, and seemed just as ruthless, but he also seemed to have an extra set of smarts, as well. While the other Careers blindly followed each other, he was the one to protest and question their actions.

"Hey, Caesar," he said in an almost bored voice, waving to the audience with tightened lips. A couple Capitol women let out in hesitant cheers, while others adverted their eyes skeptically.

Marvel spent his three minutes politely dragging the conversation on with Caesar, who occasionally let out an exaggerated laugh to make the interview seem more interesting. No one protested when it was time for him to go.

"Clove! Honey! Come closer, so I can see you better!" Caesar said, theatrically fanning himself to make it seem like her presence was heating him up, despite the cool evening air. Clove gracefully got up from her chair before smoothing her teal dress out over her thighs and making her way over to the center of the stage. She made it a point to let the cameras see her giving Gale a provocative wink before taking her place next to Caesar. I unconsciously tightened my grip on his hand before shooting her a narrow glare, which caused a strained '_Oooh!'_ to come from the audience.

"Sassy, are you?" Caesar laughed, his blue lips stretching over his unnaturally white teeth.

"I suppose so," Clove said in an artificially sweet voice, purposely letting her gaze drift over to Gale again. I immediately felt unease well up in my chest. What was she trying to do?

"Ah, if I didn't know better, I'd say you've got your eyes on a taken man," Caesar chuckled before giving me a reassuring glance. I'm sure it was meant to be comforting, but it only felt like he was mocking me. My glare sharpened.

"Taken?" Clove let out a ridiculing laugh, as clear and sharp as glass. "That didn't stop him before. Did it, sweetie?" Her chocolate eyes found their way over to Gale again, who was now practically snarling in her direction.

It hit me immediately after that; Clove not only found out about our angle, but was also trying to ruin it. I felt my eyes blaze as I frantically tried to peer past the blinding stage-lights to find Haymitch in the crowd, feeling like it was the best thing to do in a situation like this.

The audience had grown restless at this point, some shouting insults at both Clove and Gale and others giving them words of encouragement. I felt fury rise into my throat as I finally locked my eyes on Haymitch's glassy ones in the sea of people. He was looking directly at me, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration. _Speak_, his eyes seemed to say,_ I told you not to mess this up._

I attempted to swallow down the panic swelling in my chest as I racked my brain for a solution, Haymitch's piercing gaze slowly pushing me over the edge.

"Like he would ever even consider being with you!" My voice rang around the City Circle, surprising even myself.

Gale gave me a curious sideways glance before quickly registering my actions and breaking the silence that followed my outburst with, "Stop living in your fantasies, 2." His voice was dripping with venom.

"Aw, honey, there's no need to deny it. You're better with me, anyway," Clove sighed dreamily, unaffected.

I found Haymitch in the crowd again, who was now standing up on his feet and frantically gesturing with his hands. _That's not good enough._

Before I had a chance to think my actions through, I let out a loud scoff. "Deny what? He was with me the entire time in the Training Center. We were never away from each other," I said with confidence, even though I was lying through my teeth. Thoughts raced through my head, making me dizzier than I already was as pressure from the audience made me desperately try to think of something better to add. "At _night_, especially."

The crowd was now letting out fits of laughter, slapping their hands over their mouths as if what I said was the most piercing thing possible. I looked over at Haymitch, whose eyebrows were raised as if he were impressed. Effie sat next to him with her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. A small voice inside of me was saying that I would be mortified by my actions later, but I ignored it and instead savored my victory by returning Clove's initial smile back to her with equal ridicule.

She seemed speechless as her cheeks flushed under her makeup, her pencil-thin eyebrows creasing together in my direction. The buzzer went off, and she stalked back to her chair next to Cato furiously.

"Ooh, that was _heated_," Caesar said, staring out into the audience with playful eyes, "You all better not even think of messing with that District 12 man, he has a _feisty _girlfriend."

Everyone laughed, and I felt my actions catch up with me as I lowered my gaze to the floor, feeling the cameras focus in on my face. I silently acknowledged Gale squeezing my hand reassuringly before giving him a pained glance, only to see that he was desperately trying to hold back a toothy grin.

"Cato, get over here, before his girlfriend does something else," Caesar called out, flashing me another glance over his shoulder. I ignored it and swallowed hard, still feeling the cameras insistently zoom in my direction.

Cato rose up from his seat, his bulging muscles purposely revealed and highlighted across his arms under a short-sleeved dress shirt. His flaxen hair framed his glaring expression in a way that hushed the crowd instantly as he took the center of the stage with firm, intimidating footsteps.

"You're lookin' a little scary there, big boy," Caesar joked, and was only met by Cato's scathing scowl. A few uncomfortable chuckles came from the crowd.

Cato's three minutes were filled with him begrudgingly answering Caesar's questions, which did not include the scene with Clove at all, which was probably a smart move. When the buzzer rang, everybody politely clapped as he went to the back of the stage and claimed his seat next to Clove again.

The seconds seemed to drag themselves by as the other Districts' tributes sailed through their interviews, clearly affected by Cato's appearance as they weakly laughed and smiled at the cameras.

Cato had put me on edge, as well. It was the way he unconsciously leaned towards Clove, sending glares like daggers at whoever dared to turn their head in her direction. The way his features were shadowed over, despite the bright light flooding the stage, and how his expression was filled with pure hatred as his gaze swept over Gale.

A light shudder ran through my torso. This was the first time since we had first met in the gym that I had actually felt a slight tremor of fear towards the District 2 male.

I silently tried to register a little information on each tribute, but my mind kept on wandering elsewhere. Before I knew it, the girl from District 5 was already in the overstuffed armchair next to Caesar and conversing smoothly. I quietly remembered her face, which was a lot like a fox's, and noted her elusive, sneaky movements.

The interviews with the tributes from Districts 6, 7, and 8 completely swept past me. I silently hoped that Gale was paying more attention to them than I was.

Before I knew it, the girl from District 9 had made her way to the center of the stage, her ginger hair falling down her back in tight ringlets that contrasted against her pine green dress. She was going for the humble approach, but did it too thoroughly, and ended up denying every compliment thrown in her direction with haste. I didn't catch her name, but wasn't too bothered by it; she didn't seem like someone who needed to be feared. The District 9 boy came and went, a panicked look never leaving his sunken eyes.

I began to daze off again, and was immediately roused by the sound of something slapping against the stage. My gaze darted towards the District 10 girl, who had fallen over her feet just a few inches in front of her chair, causing the audience to let out quick snorts and stifled laughter. She picked herself up speedily before smoothing her dress out clumsily with her sweat-covered palms and rushing over to Caesar.

"Heh... Have a nice _fall?"_ Caesar laughed, obviously running out of jokes this deep into the interviews.

The District 10 boy struggled out of his chair before dragging his crippled foot limply behind him across the stage. The audience was politely quiet as he answered his questions, speaking mostly of his two little sisters back home and how all he wanted was to see them again.

Before long, Rue was being called up. I forced myself to pay attention as she fluttered over to Caesar, her steps light and almost completely soundless. She was dressed in a frilled, ribbon-covered gown with black, feathery wings attached to the back that protruded through her raven hair, making her seem even more like a bird about to take flight than she already did. The audience let out a simultaneous "_Awww_" as she struggled onto the cushions of the armchair, which were comically huge compared to her tiny figure.

After going through how cute she looked, and watching Rue shyly accept the compliments, Caesar immediately started talking about her training score. "So, I saw that you scored a seven. That's very impressive for a District 11 tribute, not to mention a twelve-year-old!"

Rue let the corners of her mouth quirk into a sweet grin, making the audience go crazy in adoration. "You shouldn't be so quick to assume, Caesar."

The interviewer's lips stretched into what looked like a genuine smile. "So mature, too. Would you like to hint at what got you that seven?"

The Gamemakers squirmed in their balcony uncomfortably, but Rue didn't hesitate. "I'm very hard to catch," she said confidently in her tremulous voice, "so don't count me out yet."

"Wouldn't think of it," Caesar responded warmly before the sound of the buzzer echoed through the circle, much to both mine and the audience's dismay.

Thresh promptly got to his feet after Rue had made her way back to the chair next to him, not waiting to be called up before he stalked across the stage and squeezed himself in the armchair next to Caesar. It was comical like Rue, except instead of him being too tiny for it, he had trouble even sliding himself between the armrests. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt that revealed muscles at least three times the size as any boy tributes' had been so far.

"Whoooa, hold on there, buckaroo," Caesar said with a low whistle, raising his eyebrows as he took in Thresh's massive build, "You're intimidating me, here."

Thresh sat silently, his face emotionless as he stared blankly out into the audience. Much like I had imagined, he refused to answer questions in detail, sometimes not answering them at all.

I silently started thinking about how if I had any money, I would sponsor Thresh myself. We all looked like insects compared to him, just waiting to be squashed under his feet.

My thoughts were interrupted by the buzzer suddenly reverberating off of my eardrums and echoing at the back of my skull, sending my pulse into a frenzy as I whirled my head around to glance to the side in a panic, just in time to see Thresh easing himself back into the chair next to Rue. It was my turn.

"I've been looking forward to interviewing _you_, Katniss, dear," Caesar chimed, catching my attention as he attempted to beckon me forward with his whitened smile.

My heart beat wildly against my ribcage as I sent a frantic look towards Gale. He blinked confusedly at me before letting the corners of his mouth curl into a slight grin and whispering, "You'll outshine everyone," repeating his words from dinner the night before in a tender voice.

I couldn't stop the grin that had spread across my lips after that, and the cameras caught it with ease. It was as if all the panic that had consumed me just moments before was lifted away the moment my eyes locked with Gale's, as if he was the one thing keeping me from running off the stage in fright. His grin widened as my trembles ceased, making him tighten his grip on my hand encouragingly. "I know you will."

The audience erupted with cheers as the cameras began to insistently focus in on us. I could hear Caesar above all of them, his energetic acclamations amplified by the microphone next to him.

"I hate to break up this adorable moment, but your time is ticking away, Katniss!" Caesar pressed, tapping his pale wrist as if a watch was wrapped around it. I pursed my lips, suddenly finding it very difficult to tear my gaze away from Gale's silver irises. It was Clove's loud scoff that snapped me out of my daze, causing me to begrudgingly get up from my chair and take a step towards Caesar, my hand leaving Gale's for the first time since the interviews began.

As I walked, the gems on my dress caught the light shining on the stage and began to reflect it, making fire lick up my hips in swirls. The shoes followed suit, intensifying the illusion alongside with the flame-like fabric snaking around my thighs. I caught sight of myself on one of the big screens, and had trouble taking my eyes away from the dress as I sat myself down.

All attention went to Cinna after that, the crowd loudly applauding in adoration as the cameras hungrily gobbled up his image. His lips tightened into a goodnatured smile before he pointed the cameras back towards the stage almost exasperatedly.

"Someone! Call an ambulance! I think my heart just stopped!" Caesar called out, theatrically clawing at his chest. I let out a nervous laugh before sneaking a glance back down my dress. Even when I was sitting still, it was as if glittering flames were spiraling around my torso, consuming my hips in an almost hypnotizing way.

"But in all seriousness, Katniss, you look _stunning_," Caesar countered, craning his neck to look at Gale, "Let's hope your boyfriend isn't as protective as you, because it's safe to say that _all_ eyes are on you tonight!"

All the cameras zoomed in on Gale, making him stiffen as he stubbornly diverted his gaze to the floor. Capitol women swooned in their seats the moment they had laid eyes on him, and he furrowed his eyebrows in an attempt to ignore it, hiding the annoyance that followed shortly after. The cinematographers focused their cameras back on me, gathering that they weren't going to get much of a reaction from him.

I continued to laugh nervously, hoping that the anxiousness I felt in my chest wasn't showing on my face. Caesar quickly took hold of the conversation before it could become strained, changing the subject to the opening ceremonies. "My heart stopped when I saw that costume, too. What did you think about it?"

I darted my gaze to Cinna, who was immeasurably easier to find than Haymitch. He looked back at me intently with his gold-flecked eyes before arching one of his delicate brows. I swallowed hard before saying, "You mean after I knew I wasn't going to be burned alive?"

The audience roared in laughter, and so did Caesar. Cinna looked back at me with a warm smile, as if he was encouraging me, which made guilt suddenly well up in my chest. "But really, it was beautiful. He's a genius, and I'm really thankful for everything he's done," I amended.

Caesar nodded his head quickly in response before continuing with his string of questions. "I'm sure any of us would be a little scared of a costume like _that_. How did you persuade yourself to go through with it?"

Haymitch's gaze felt like it was burning into my side, and I darted my attention towards him almost irritably, only to be met by eyes that seemed to be filled with exclamations of impatience. I quickly realized that I was supposed to be steering the conversation towards Gale, not Cinna's designs.

Holding back an exasperated sigh, I answered, "I knew Gale would be there to pull that cape off of me if it started to do any damage, and I would so the same for him. That helped us both go through with it."

This sparked the crowd's interest, but Haymitch still wasn't satisfied. Effie sat next to him quizzically as he and I shot frowns at each other, something I was glad about the cameras not catching.

"Oh _really_? That brings me to the topic I was most excited about covering with you," Caesar mused, directing his smile to the audience as if he was giving them a present. I exhaled sharply before biting my lower lip, preparing myself.

Caesar's smile widened to the point where his shining back teeth were showing, and I had to resist the urge to shrink back into the seat I was in. "Do you _know _how rare it is to have volunteers in District 12? It's absolutely amazing to have _both_ of the tributes from there be volunteers this year," he stressed, using his hands to demonstrate how unthinkable it was, "What caused you to volunteer? And do you have any idea what caused Gale to do the same?"

I felt my eyes widen in Caesar's direction as I thought back to the day of the Reapings, to Prim's color-drained face, to Gale's uncharacteristic tears dampening my hair. I pressed my lips together as I frustratedly let my gaze wander over to Haymitch in search of another lifesaving suggestion, but his eyes only offered a blank stare. I let out a shaky breath before unconsciously clenching my fists together on my lap.

"She's only twelve," I finally muttered, barely audible.

The circle had gotten so unsettlingly quiet after that that if somebody had dropped a pin, the sound of it ricocheting off the cement would've been heard clearly.

"Who?" Caesar pressed, noticing that he hit a soft spot.

_No. No, I'm not telling you. I'm not going to let all of Panem know about her. _My throat constricted as I tried to force words out. Anything, even a blatant lie would be better than absolute silence. I felt trembles shake my torso as my gaze instinctively drifted towards Gale, who was looking back at me with uneasy eyes.

I knew that I couldn't tell Caesar, and I absolutely couldn't tell the Capitol citizens surrounded around the stage. Maybe I couldn't even tell Haymitch, Cinna or Effie. But I could, without a doubt, tell my best friend.

"Her name is Prim," I started, locking my eyes on Gale's silver ones and forcing myself to drone out everything else, "She's the most precious, genuine, and radiant person I have ever known. And that's why I couldn't let her be reaped."

I was only slightly aware of the distant clapping coming from the audience as I focused all of my attention on Gale. His tortured look had evolved into a warm one, and his claps echoed the loudest inside my head.

"Do you have any idea why _he_ volunteered right after you did?" Caesar asked suddenly, his voice just barely succeeding in rousing me as he gestured insistently towards the back of the stage.

I pursed my lips, a breath getting caught in my throat. "Because," I started, only to have it come out strained as my eyes diverted back to Gale's in a frantic search for refuge. His gray irises looked back at me expectantly, and words were suddenly flowing out of my mouth without my permission.

"Because he didn't want me to go through this alone. Ever since our fathers died in the same mining accident, we've helped each other through everything, whether it be our aiming skills or our starving families." I watched as Gale's hardened features gradually softened at my words, and I involuntarily flashed him a heartfelt smile. "Because we simply need each other."

The sound of the buzzer went off around the circle, instantly making it seem as if a weight had been lifted from my chest. I sucked in a sharp breath before slowly registering the blasting sound of my applause, making my eyes sweep over the individual faces of the spectators. I was surprised by the large amount of tears streaming down their hysterical, inspired faces.

"Best of luck to you, Katniss Everdeen, tribute of District 12," Caesar whispered under his breath and away from the microphone, reaching his hand out and giving my forearm a comforting squeeze. It was almost troubling to see his face without his contorted smile and to hear his voice drop down to a normal octave. I flashed him a forced grin before heading back to my chair, the applause carrying on even after I was seated.

"Let's wrap this up, Gale!" Caesar yelled, his voice snapped back into his usual, exaggerated timbre.

My eyes darted over to Gale, only to find that he was already staring back at me.

"Wish me luck, Catnip."

And just like that, he was gone, already off to the center of the stage. It was as if dozens of miles were suddenly put between us as he seated himself into the armchair, giving the audience a goodnatured wave and sending most of the females into giddy fits of giggles. His applause was as loud as my closing one had been, amplified by women shouting out loving remarks.

I was too dazed by what had come out of my mouth during my interview to even care. It was as if I had suddenly gone into a completely different mindset, which was triggered only by a single look in Gale's direction.

My eyes swept over the audience again, almost unconsciously, only to have my gaze land on Haymitch. He wasn't paying attention to Gale, and instead shooting me almost teasing looks. I was about to question them, but my thoughts were stopped dead in their tracks as realization suddenly flooded my brain.

In a few minutes time, Gale's lips would be on mine.

I resisted the urge to squirm in my seat as this thought echoed in my brain and rang in my ears. It was almost funny how the audience was listening intently to his interview while being completely oblivious to the fact that he was just building up to where he could glide over to me and sweep me into what was supposed to be a jaw-dropping kiss. I pursed my lips and forced myself to focus, hoping that my expression didn't entirely give it away.

"...Gale, huh? Isn't that some type of storm?" Caesar asked, twisting his mouth into his signature smile.

"Isn't caesar some type of salad?" Gale countered. He was holding up his arrogant angle well, and judging from the audience's reaction, Haymitch's plans of it being charming had worked.

The interviewer laughed along with the crowd, making me almost slip into another stupor before he shot his next question. "I've been meaning to ask you to elaborate on what your girlfriend was saying before her interview ended."

Gale's eyes glinted—a glint very similar to the one that appeared whenever an animal had an opening for him to shoot at. "She put it really well, I think. It's no exaggeration to say that we need each other."

"So, it's safe to say that you _love_ her?" Caesar pushed, leaving the spectators in a sea of anticipation. My knees had begun to tremble again, and I was suddenly even more grateful for the chair beneath me.

"Yes," Gale said without hesitation. Even though I knew it was all just an act prepared by our two crafty mentors, his single-syllable word was enough to leave me even more shaken than I already was. My attention immediately darted toward the audience, expecting the females to begin glaring at me, but they were instead letting out squeaky sounds of delighted approval.

"How much?" Caesar said in an almost hushed voice, pushing the envelope even further.

This was it. My heart leaped into my throat as I forced my body to stay still. I hadn't expected for this moment to come so soon; it felt like only seconds had passed after my interview had ended.

I hesitantly raised my eyes to peer at the center of the stage, but instead found Gale mere inches away from me. I had forgotten just how silent he was.

Slowly, Gale lowered his head so that he was eye-level with me, and he was rewarded with a catch in my breathing. The corner of his mouth quirked as he looked down at me, his expression dimmed to something I had never seen before—a sleepy, almost passionate light buried in his smoky eyes. He let his fingers lightly trail themselves down my cheek to my lips, outlining the shape of them with utmost care.

I gulped in an attempt to calm my pulse, and let my eyes dart to the side to catch sight of one of the large screens around the City Circle. The makeup covering my cheeks made my otherwise beet red blush glow into a subtle pink; Cinna must have thought ahead. Momentary shots of the dumbfounded crowd were also shown on the screen, and they looked as if they could hardly believe their eyes. That could go for Caesar, too, who was practically hung over the back of his chair as he tried to decipher Gale's actions.

"Close your eyes, Catnip," Gale breathed, his cool breath scattering across my face in a way that sent shivers through my nerves, shivers that made my previous trembles spread throughout my entire body. I obeyed, quickly snapping my eyes shut and blinding myself to the entire scene around me.

First, his lips had only touched mine lightly, as if he had decided against it at the last moment, but it was almost immediately followed by more force. A rushing sound filled my ears, like beating wings, as I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck to pull him closer. He let out a muffled sound of surprise, but it was lost against my mouth.

Gale's lips tensed for a second, but softened quickly against mine as he responded to my sudden forcefulness, cupping my cheek tenderly in his palm and raising my face to meet his more conveniently.

I was only slightly aware of the audience letting out tearful acclamations, their encouraging cheers edged with discomfort as we continued much longer than was necessary with our kiss.

"Yuck," Clove gagged, making me break apart from Gale to peer at her. His breath was suddenly rapid, as if he had just come back from running a mile.

_"Finally!_ They stop going at it on public television!" the District 2 girl continued, regarding my glare with disgust. Caesar shot her a look of protest, but she silenced him with a piercing scowl. "Honestly. I don't understand why everyone is blubbering about how cute they are. They're both just going to end up dying, anyway."

* * *

** Thanks for reading!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hellooo! All of your reviews for chapter 11 made me so happy. You guys are all just so fantastic that I'm having trouble fathoming how you all like this story of mine. **

* * *

_**The Hunger Games **_**belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

"_One by one,  
you'll start to fall.  
Before night's over,  
I'll get you all."  
—Unknown_

* * *

**Part II: "The Games"**

* * *

The silence that followed Clove's outburst was unsettling.

She sat stiffly and cross-legged in her chair, crinkling her nose and glaring to the side in a way that made her seem like a three-year-old who had just finished with their tantrum. Everyone in the crowd's gazes grew blank as their once lively expressions became tormented, their surgically altered irises flashing with inner affliction as they let the fact that we—the couple they had been cheering so enthusiastically for—would be sent off to our deaths in less than twenty-four hours sink in.

_Good_, I thought harshly, _Maybe now they'll realize how cruel the games really are._

The buzzer finally sounded, the loud hum of it almost ear-piercing in the smothering silence. Then, as if awakened from their temporarily guilt-ridden states, the audience began to whip their heads around to look at one another while letting out exclamations of "How _tragic!_"

They proceeded to casually make conversation about who they thought was going to outlive the other, their voices carrying a certain tinge of something that sent surges of chills through my torso—a careless, almost eager note in their words, as if they were talking about some mindless drama on one of their Capitol television networks instead of real people.

I felt a gawk twist my features as I let my eyes sway across the individual faces in the crowd, only to be met by superficial tears and the occasional spirited grin. I hadn't realized that Gale's warm palm was still pressed against my cheek until he swiped it away, making a move to shoot the spectators a sharp glare, only to be stopped when I frantically grabbed after the sleeve of his black dress shirt.

_"Well!"_ Caesar called impatiently out into the microphone, silencing the disorder around him, "That was _technically_ against the rules, since Katniss Everdeen had already used up all of her airtime, but I think we can let it slide! What a great way to conclude this year's interviews!"

I exasperatedly looked up and locked gazes with Gale, who had his eyebrows crinkled sternly together as he stared down at me with stormy eyes.

My eyes widened as I began to decipher the cooped-up emotions now rising to the surface in his gunmetal irises, making me aware of the faint tingle around my mouth and the delicate layer of warmth prickling my skin all over. I unconsciously let my gaze wander down to Gale's lips, making my ears ring. He straightened himself up, and I was suddenly overcome by a nagging urge to wrap my arms around his neck and bring him back down to eye-level again.

The anthem abruptly began to ring around the City Circle, snapping me out of my daze and causing me to scramble to my feet out of required respect. While the other tributes were a good distance apart, Gale and I stood closely together, which was regarded by the cameras as every screen around the circle was dominated by a shot of us. Poor, tragic us, who apparently would just make this year's games more _interesting,_ according to the empty cries coming from the audience. I began to silently seethe.

Once the anthem was over, all the tributes seemed to move off of the stage in a single wave, their backs arched in exhaustion. I watched as Cato insistently tried to comfort Clove, but she swatted him away as if he was just an unwanted fly.

I pursed my lips together before letting my eyes drift over to Gale, who responded by moving closer to me and whispering fervently in my ear, his shoulders slumped with something like forced passivity. "Don't let it bother you. It's not surprising that these people are shallow enough to think..." His sentence drifted off as he fixedly clenched his jaw together.

A buzzing sound fluttered in my ears at the sound of his voice, and I had to muster up every ounce of self-control I had to just tear my gaze away and follow the line of other tributes back in the direction of the Training Center. "Worry about yourself. I'm fine," I lied, the tightened muscles in my throat making my voice come out strained.

I turned away, and Gale responded by taking my hand into his—a gesture that was usually natural but had nonetheless succeeded in sending my pulse into a flurry—and we proceeded to step off of the stage and into the crowd. I didn't even bother to look for our mentors or stylists in the now chaotic sea of people, deciding that it was next to impossible to spot them over the various heads blocking my view of the place.

Everyone seemed to part and stagger out of the way for Gale and I, and some of the more exuberant individuals went as far as to call out our names and give us words of praise for our interviews. Some even eagerly pointed out the tears streaming down their faces, which I assumed was supposed to be an act of empathy, but it only made me feel more uncomfortable than I already was.

I could never understand why citizens of the Capitol let tears flood their eyes if they didn't genuinely feel heartache. Maybe it was because it never showed itself as an obstacle in their almost perfect lives; after all, the biggest problem they probably ever had had to face was their makeup clumping.

My hands knotted together into tight fists at this thought, and Gale had the good grace to not pull away from my sudden death grip on his hand. He instead gave me a curious sideways glance, his smokey eyes intently studying my expression as we finally broke out of the crowd and into the Training Center.

Just as we had taken our first steps into the building, the elevator at the far side of the room had begun to shut closed with most of the other tributes in it. I caught a glance of Rue through the thin slit of the doors diving in an effort to hold it open for us, but Cato had swept her away before she could even take two steps on her delicate toes.

Gale let out a strained groan before leading me over to the now closed doors of the elevator and jabbing an impatient finger on the up button next to it. "Guess we'll have to wait for the next one," he said breathily before lowering his gaze down to me again, his silver eyes lidded and thoughtful.

I bit my lower lip before absently nodding in response, listening to the distant squeaking the elevator made as it swept its way to various Districts' floors without us.

My silence must have set Gale on edge, because he inched himself closer before giving my arm a gentle nudge. "I'm kind of glad we didn't have to go in the same elevator as them, anyway," he murmured, his almost inaudible voice sending light shivers down my spine and making me hastily turn my head away. I took in a sharp breath, the air icy against my tensed lips, before Gale let out a quiet sigh. "C'mon, Catnip. What's wrong?"

The corners of my mouth curled downward before I involuntarily let my gaze wander to Gale again, only to have my heart do a purposeless somersault inside my taut chest. His dark hair had curled slightly at the ends in response to the slight humidity in the evening air, brushing lightly against the nape of his neck and the faint contours of his temples. "Nothing," I responded shakily, quickly adverting my gaze to the closed elevator doors in front of us.

"The kiss wasn't_ that_ bad, was it?" Gale mused, making a breath catch in my throat and sending me into a fit of choked coughs. The corner of his mouth quirked into an amused grin.

I was immediately filled with a sudden rush of relief when a faint ding sounded from above, signifying that the elevator had made its way down its shaft again. The doors slid open, and I stepped into the dimly lit compartment with a slight sense of triumph. Gale ambled in after me before pressing a finger to the 12 button and having the doors shift closed behind him.

"You didn't answer me," he pushed, his grin widening against his tanned cheeks. He had scooted much closer than was necessary to me, making my breaths uneven.

"It was just that—a kiss," I countered quickly, a slight pout apparent in my voice, "A last-ditch effort to get us sponsors."

"That can't be all that was to you," Gale continued, unaffected, "I definitely felt something—a spark, maybe? You were on fire, after all."

"Don't," I huffed, narrowing my gaze stubbornly in front of me. It felt as if the elevator was unhurriedly crawling its way upward, making my chest knot up impatiently.

Gale only let a smirk tug at the sides of his mouth in response. "Before tonight, I've been trying to imagine what it would be like to kiss you, and..." His voice was suddenly softened into something that made my cheeks heat up uneasily, "It was nothing like I expected."

"You do know that we're going into the arena tomorrow, right?" I demanded, my voice coming out much more breathy than I had intended.

"Which makes this all the more important," Gale stated in a tender tone, something that was unfamiliar and almost alien compared to the hushed commands I was used to hearing during hunting in the woods. "People like you are hard to come by, Catnip. In a way, you're precious," he murmured, his voice dropped to just above a whisper as he absently brushed a stray hair out of my face and behind my ear, "I'm going to do whatever it takes to protect you in the arena. You can count on that."

"Stop," I muttered, a pleading edge in my voice. His touch was electrifying against my cheek, making trembles shoot their way up my torso as I desperately tried to advert my attention elsewhere.

"Okay, I'm done," he responded almost instantly afterwards, scooting himself away just in time for the elevator to open and reveal the District 12 floor. "That's all."

The cool air that had hit my side after he had inched himself away gave me a slight start, making me whirl my head in Gale's direction almost uncontrollably. He flashed me a strained grin in response, making my knees buckle slightly, before he proceeded to turn away and step out of the elevator.

"Wait," I called out, feeling like a helpless child rushing after him, "I-I will..." I exhaled sharply before forcing a determined mask across my features, "Same with me. I'm protecting you. And you can count on it, too."

A smile broke out across Gale's lips, not forced like the grin he had given me a few moments ago, before he stuffed his hands into his pockets and gestured toward the entrance of the roof. "Do me a favor?"

* * *

"Sing?"

"Yes, sing. I'm sure it won't be _that_ painful for you, right?"

"But...Why?"

"Because."

Gale had led me onto the roof, the numerous flower beds and clamorous wind chimes now familiar to both of us. He leaned onto the railing, putting me slightly on edge as I remembered how the electric field around the place had singed an acorn to the point where it was steaming. "Because it's my last wish before we're sent into the arena. Is it really too much to ask?" he said playfully, the cool night wind tousling his raven hair against his moonlit face.

"That's a lame last wish," I mumbled under my breath, shifting my weight onto the railing, but being more mindful than Gale of the electric field.

"It's a great last wish," he responded almost absently, the silver of his eyes locked on the Capitol buildings below us, now lit up with various street lamps, "Besides, in all the years that we've known each other, you've never sang to me. Your mother told me about what a magnificent voice you have. I feel a little cheated." He let out a light chuckle before letting his gaze sweep over in my direction.

I pursed my lips together uneasily, silently noting that the bright lights from the city washed out the stars I was so used to seeing in the night sky.

Singing was something that I used to do daily with my father before he died, one of the peculiar things that we bonded over that set us apart from all the other children and their fathers in my classes. He had a voice that made every living thing within hearing distance stop in their tracks and listen, a voice that I will never in my life live up to. After he died, I couldn't bring myself to let another tune escape from my lips. There was never a point.

"Well, now I know that you have high expectations," I muttered, feeling my eyes become dull as I forced the thoughts of my father to the back of my mind, "I'll probably end up disappointing you."

"You can never disappoint me, Catnip," Gale said, a note of disbelief in his tone, "Not even if you tried."

I involuntarily felt my gaze sway over to him, only to have my eyes lock on his. I bit my lower lip, feeling the memories of my father perched up on branches next to numerous mockingjays rise to the surface in my mind, but curiously not feeling the pain that usually gripped my heart at the presence of them.

If anyone was going to be able to make me utter out another song, it would be Gale. After all that he's done, who am I to refuse such a simple request?

Without another thought, I snapped my eyes shut and began to let the words flow out from my lips, clenching my hands onto the railing as the melody of the first song that found it's way to my mouth filled the air.

_"__Old, but I'm not that old_

_Young, but I'm not that bold_

_And I don't think the world is sold_

_I'm just doing what we're told"_

I let my eyes slit open and nervously dart to the side, only to see Gale gazing at me with his chin rested in his palm, his eyes speculative.

_"I feel something so right  
_  
_Doing the wrong thing  
_  
_I feel something so wrong  
_  
_Doing the right thing  
_  
_I could lie, could lie, could lie  
_  
_Everything that kills me makes me feel a__live"__  
_

I gulped in an effort to keep my voice from wavering before choking out the last words, suddenly feeling as if a massive weight was posed on my shoulders.

_"I feel the love  
_  
_And I feel it burn  
_  
_Down this river's every turn  
_  
_Hope is a four letter word  
_  
_Make that money  
_  
_Watch it burn"_

Slowly, I inhaled deeply and pressed my lips firmly together, remembering that my father would whisper that song under his breath when he thought I wasn't listening. It was something that carried a dismal note, a sad bud of love darkened with forbode, and now, I was singing it to my best friend on a roof the night before we were sent to an arena where we could be killed in seconds.

"That was beautiful, Catnip," Gale murmured, snapping me out of my reverie, "Thank you."

My eyes darted almost frantically over to him, and I was startled by the sudden tears that were blurring my vision. I hastily made a move to hide them, but Gale had beaten me to it by reaching out a gentle hand and carefully wiping them away with his thumb.

"Wh—" I started, but was immediately interrupted when he had pulled me closer into his chest, enveloping me in his warm arms and instantly making me melt into pliancy.

"Katniss Everdeen," he whispered into my hair, barely audible, "please don't make me fall harder than I already have."

* * *

"Honestly! If you hadn't given such a great performance tonight, I would be busy beating the daylights out of you both!"

I tightened my lips in Effie's direction in an effort to give her an apologetic look, but she continued to keep her flaring eyes locked in front of her as she stalked through the hallways on her heeled shoes, the clicks it made against the floor almost succeeding in rattling the walls. "Do you know how_ long_ we all waited in the dining room? Do you know _what_ we had to let go cold in front of us?"

"N—" Gale started, only to be cut off when Effie exclaimed, "Cream and rose petal soup! Do you know how _recherché _that dish is, even for the Capitol?"

I desperately held back the urge to roll my eyes as I kept a steady pace obediently behind Effie, who was carrying on with her rant for much longer than was necessary. To be fair, though, it must have taken her a while to find Gale and I on the roof, since it was a reasonably unexpected place for us to be.

"You didn't have to wait for us," Gale muttered, irritation starting to drip into his tone.

"Really? So I would just let you two starve on the night before you go to the arena?" Effie countered, a tinge of hysteria apparent in her voice.

We rounded a corner and soon found ourselves nearing the dining room entrance, the sweet fragrance of our dinner immediately filling our noses. Effie wrapped her slender fingers around the door handle before swinging it open, only to reveal Haymitch and our stylists already almost halfway through their meals.

"I told you all to wait until I came back with these two!" Effie exclaimed, clapping a hand over her horrified mouth and making her words come out muffled.

Portia began to quietly chortle to herself. "Sorry, we didn't want _everything_ to go to waste," she stated in a matter-of-fact tone. Haymitch brought his bowl of soup to his mouth before loudly slurping it down in a clear effort to aggravate Effie even further.

After our bowls were scraped clean, we all made our way to the sitting room to watch the replays of the interviews. Haymitch slouched lazily into the cushions of a large white couch next to Gale and I, and across from us sat our two stylists and a very vexed Effie.

We had almost tuned in late, and by the time Clove was shown on the screen with her head held up in confidence, I silently wished that we did. My exclamations toward her from the back of the stage seemed alien, much too petty to be me, and yet I couldn't seem to shrug off the feeling of how letting out all my frustration toward her in front of millions felt so right.

Cato appeared even more threatening in the various views of the cameras, his scowl etching lines of distaste in the rough skin that framed his shadowy features. Shots of the audience showed that they felt just as intimidated as I had, and that had doubtlessly earned him a sizable amount of sponsors.

It was difficult to see the faces of the people we were going to be put up against the next day—the people who all had something to fight for, who all had families who would mourn just as much as mine would. Ice seemed to crystallize in my chest as I wondered which of these tributes were fated to die by my hand.

I silently noted how Gale seemed to be growing gradually more tense as the interviews went on, the muscles in his arms stiffening as his hands periodically clenched into tight fists. By the time Thresh was shown taking rough steps back to his chair, he was so frigid that I was tempted to inch closer to him.

When I was shown making my way toward the center of the stage, the vivid flames created by the bright jewels wrapped around my torso caught me by surprise. I absently glanced down at the dress, almost forgetting that I was still wearing it.

While my beauty was artificial, all created by Cinna's hand, Gale's was natural and shone through even on the television screen. His ashen eyes seemed just as piercing as they were in person, making the muscles in my throat contract, and his entire act was charming and utterly winning of every heart in the crowd.

Everything grew silent as Gale smoothly got up from his seat on the television and glided over to me, my cheeks instantly glowing to a faint pink as he tentatively bent down to eye level. It wasn't until our lips had made contact that the audience burst out in acclamation, some jumping from the seats with tearful cheers. The cameras swiveled over to Clove for a split moment, just in time to see her brown eyes roll and her slender arms cross over her chest. Her outburst wasn't shown, which didn't surprise me, and it immediately cut to a shot of us all standing for the anthem. It ended with a flourish, and was followed by the Capitol seal wiping the screen blank.

Cinna inhaled deeply before getting up from the couch and carefully switching the television off, making me let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding. Tomorrow, at dawn, Gale and I were going to be woken up by our stylists and prepared for the arena.

"Guess this is goodbye," Haymitch noted in a gravelly voice that sounded almost like a cough, leaning forward in his seat and stroking at the peppery stubble that had already began to grow back across his chin. He and Effie won't be seeing us off since they'll be stationed at the Headquarters, hopefully busy with our massive amount of sponsors and attentively working out plans to get Gale and I our parachutes in the arena.

"Only for one of us," Gale responded halfheartedly, his lips tugging into a grin, "Katniss will be seeing you again soon enough."

I immediately stiffened, feeling my stomach knot up in a way that made it difficult to breathe. I opened my mouth to protest, but Haymitch cut me off with a pained chuckle, the sound of it grating against my ears.

"I've always liked you, boy," he murmured, slapping Gale's shoulder encouragingly before getting to his feet, his aged legs shaking under his weight. He crossed his arms and raked his glassy eyes over us for one last time. "Stay out of the Cornucopia when the gong sounds. Just get the hell out of there," he demanded with a strange softness apparent in his voice, "I know you two could probably hold your own, but I don't want to take any chances."

"Anything else?" Gale asked, almost exasperatedly.

Haymitch locked gazes with him for an extended amount of time, the pain that had wallowed at the back of his crystal eyes over the years resurfacing. "Stay alive," he mumbled through tightened lips.

Effie made her way over to us with actual tears apparent in her eyes before grabbing both of our hands between her reedy fingers, her elongated nails digging into my skin. "Thank you both so much," she whispered in a voice that was absent of any theatricality, "Thanks for being the best tributes I have ever had the privilege of mentoring. Best of luck to you both."

My eyebrows crinkled together as I let her warm words sink in, and I had to swallow down the sudden bundle of emotions welling inside of my chest. "Eff—"

"I wouldn't be at all surprised if I got promoted to a half-decent district next year!" she cut in, immediately wiping away the moving effect her previous words had had. She dropped our hands before dashing out of the room, apparently overcome by either our parting or the possibility of her fortune improving in the future.

Haymitch stared after her with a ghost of a grin on his lips, his arms still stiffly knotted together over his chest. Then, with a renewed sense of unsmiling severity, he turned back to us. "Remember what I told you unless you want parachutes full of my fist in your faces."

That seemed like a much better fate than fighting to the death among the other tributes, but I kept quiet and obediently nodded my head.

Slowly, the frown wrinkles covering the lower half of Haymitch's face etched deeper into his loose skin. "I really need a drink."

* * *

It was always slightly satisfying to take a shower after having been made-over almost beyond recognition.

I stood silently in the warm water as it splashed against my torso, spiraling down the drain and taking the golden powder and pale makeup with it. I chose a pine-scented soap, feeling as if it was fitting, and scrubbed it against my face and through my hair until all signs of unnatural beauty were erased. My nails were still adorned painted flames, and after considering how long it would take to chip off, I exasperatedly turned off the water and stepped out into the cool air.

What kind of landscape would await Gale and I in the arena? I silently hoped for trees, something that could provide both food and concealment. Usually there were at least a few, since the Games always resolve too quickly without them, but what if they had added a sort of twist to it? A bone-chilling climate? Flesh-eating animals? Dirty, bacteria-filled water?

After being dried and moisturized by the countless gadgets around the bathroom, I padded my way over to the closet and chose the plainest sleeping-wear I could find. The clothes appeared within seconds, and after hurriedly throwing them on, I noticed a slight shimmering out of the corner of my eye. My legs almost unconsciously carried themselves toward it, revealing a circular, golden pin adorned with a mockingjay in the center of it, its wings outstretched and its beak pointed downward.

I inwardly gasped before reaching out a hesitant hand to touch its cool surface, almost not believing that it was actually there. A sudden tinge of guilt prodded against my rib cage as I delicately plucked it up from where it was set down and studied the delicate details around the feathers. I had forgotten that it even existed.

A light knock rattled my door, giving me a slight start before I hesitantly made my way over to it and swung it open, revealing the red-haired Avox. Under her bright eyes were dark smudges from lack of sleep, and they became more apparent after her eyebrows flew up in surprise.

"Oh," I blurted out, my hand tightening around the mockingjay pin in my hand, "Hello."

The corners of her mouth tightened into a tired smile before she gestured toward the pin, making me bring my hand up and reveal it to her. "This? It's a token from my district," I explained quizzically.

She nodded her head quickly before unconsciously letting her gaze dart around, as if she was expecting some type of punishment at any moment. She started to mouth out silent, garbled words, revealing the empty space between her teeth where her tongue used to be. _Good luck_.

I felt my features twist into a slight gawk as she reached up a delicate hand and wiped away a few stray hairs from my face before turning on her heel and hastily setting off, disappearing into the darkness of the hallways.

My feet acted as if they were nailed to the floor after that. If I had any chance of getting sleep before that encounter, it was all lost now.

It took a lot of effort, but I forced my legs to carry themselves over to my bed before I sat myself down on the mattress, the springs underneath the soft canvas cover whining under my weight. I set the mockingjay pin on the nightstand before laying myself down and staring at the ceiling with wide, haunted eyes.

* * *

I wasn't exactly sure how, but I must have eventually drifted off into a weak sleep because the next time I opened my eyes, my mouth felt thick and my torso felt stiff. Cinna was sitting patiently at the end of my bed, the golden eyeliner around his hazel eyes catching the dim morning light streaming in from the windows.

"Good morning," he said warmly as I forced myself to sit up, my limbs icy to the touch since I had slept without any sort of cover the night before.

"G'morning," I mumbled back, my voice slurred with exhaustion. I sluggishly stroked a hand through my tangled hair before rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"That mockingjay pin," Cinna started, gesturing towards the nightstand, "I told an Avox to bring it to you last night. She seemed strangely enthusiastic about it."

I felt myself visibly tense at the memory of the red-haired Avox wishing me luck last night, her empty mouth hopelessly mouthing words that would never be adorned with her voice again. "Where did you find it?"

"On the train. It was on a sweater you wore," he explained, getting to his feet and carefully making his way over to the nightstand to pick the pin up in his slender fingers. "It's your token, right?"

I nodded my head, the movement slow and barely noticeable.

A smile played on Cinna's lips as he closed his hand around the pin. "It was especially difficult to have the review board clear it. They thought it was an unfair advantage, as if its little point could do you any good."

I forced the corner of my lip to curl upward. "Thank you."

Cinna returned my smile without struggle. "Of course, Girl on Fire."

He proceeded to give me a simple shift to wear, explaining that the actual preparations and dressing will take place in the catacombs underneath the arena itself. His voice was filled with disappointment as he added on that he had no part in designing the arena clothing and that he hoped they had at least used good materials.

Cinna led me to the roof, and as if he predicted my worries, said that Portia had already left with Gale about a half-hour ago. I silently wondered if we were running late, and was instantly given a start by a hovercraft materializing above us out of thin air, just like the one that had captured the red-haired Avox that day in the woods. A steel ladder dropped down from a rectangular entrance in the hovercraft, and I grabbed onto it only to suddenly feel like I was frozen in place. Some sort of current ran through my bones, gluing me to the metal surface of the ladder as it lifted me safely inside.

A fair woman approached me once I was in the confines of the hovercraft, a syringe posed in her abnormally smooth hand. Panic instantly seized my heart, and I desperately tried to pull myself away from the ladder, only to find that my limbs were securely locked in place.

"Don't worry, Katniss Everdeen of District 12," the woman started, holding the syringe out in front of her and prodding the needle deep into the underside of my right forearm, "This is just a tracker. All the tributes have one."

I felt a square-shaped chip lodge itself into my flesh, and once the needle was taken out, the ladder released me. A nauseating feeling instantly rose into my throat, making me quietly retch onto the floor for a few moments before Cinna helped me back to my feet with a slight look of worry etching his features.

"Did that hurt her?" he asked, his usually calm voice risen a couple octaves.

"No, I ensure you that we do nothing to harm our tributes before they're in the arena," the woman answered, almost automatically, "she's probably just dealing with shock."

The woman left Cinna and I alone at the entrance of the hovercraft for a few short moments, giving me time to examine the tracker. It shaped the skin it was under grotesquely and shone through my flesh with a sort of faint light.

A young male Avox made his way into the room, his curled brown hair brushing against his fair forehead as he led us into a section of the hovercraft where breakfast had been set out. Despite the lingering feeling of nausea in my stomach, I gulped down as much of the food as possible, knowing that I would need the sustenance in the arena.

Cinna absently fumbled with the mockingjay pin, moving it between his slender fingers as he locked his gaze out the window. We were moving at an amazing speed, the buildings of the city and the trees of the wilderness beyond sailing under us as we dashed through the air. It wasn't long until these windows were blacked out, blinding us from our surroundings and indicating that we were near the arena.

The hovercraft suddenly lurched to a stop, causing Cinna to inhale sharply and close his hand tightly around the mockingjay pin. It was almost strange to see him in a state where he wasn't smiling in all directions.

We were taken to the ladder again, but this time it lowered us down an almost pitch-black tube leading into the catacombs underneath the arena, where I would be prepared. These places were called Launch Rooms by the Capitol, but were referred to as Stockyards by the districts—places where animals were taken for the slaughter.

Everything was brand-new, not a single speck of dust or fingerprint on any of the equipment. After all, the Launch Rooms were always used as historical sites, where Capitol citizens can plan family visits and even reenact in some of the past events of the Games, all smiles and laughter.

It's a struggle to keep my breakfast down as I quickly bathed in a small shower built in the corner of the room, the water cold and the soap smelling like chemicals. I absently poked at the tracker, only to find that the flesh around it was sore and that it sent waves of pain all the way up my arm.

When I dried myself, Cinna neatly braided my hair down my back and secured it with a black piece of string before taking a cardboard package out from underneath some of the equipment and clumsily tearing it open, revealing the arena clothes designed for every tribute this year. He frowned into the contents before begrudgingly helping me into them.

The leggings were black and skintight, stopping just below my hips and being secured by a thick black leather belt. The shirt was made of the same material, and wrapped securely around my torso like a second layer of skin. A loose jacket made of soft fabric went over it, the inside covered with numerous metallic squares used for reflecting heat on cold nights. I frowned at the color, and I could tell that Cinna was thinking the same thing that I was. The black, good for concealing things only at night, would make me stand out like a sore thumb during the day.

Cinna pulled out a sturdy-looking pair of boots from the package, and my spirits were instantly lifted. Although it sported the same dark color as the rest of the ensemble, it was made of soft, flexible leather and was not that much different from the ones I favored at home. The soles were easily bent against my feet, making it very good for running.

"Let's not forget this," Cinna mumbled, taking the mockingjay pin from his pocket and attaching it to my shirt, the gold contrasting against the black. "There, you're all set. Move around, tell me if everything fits all right."

I began walking around, the boots silent against the cement floor of the Launch Room. Although the material of the clothes was tight against my skin, it was very breathy and allowed a lot of movement. "It's fine. Fits perfectly," I stated, stretching my arms in front of me and feeling a slight tinge of pain shoot up my right arm from the tracker.

"Good," Cinna said, his smile forced for the first time since I had met him, "I have to admit, they did use the fabric that I would have. You can be very agile in that. But, of course, I would have used earth tones."

I glanced down at myself, knowing that the blackness was probably a setback by the Gamemakers. I silently decided to rub mud on the material later to make it more camouflage-friendly.

"Anything else? Maybe some more food, perhaps?" Cinna asked.

I didn't think I would be able to stomach more food, so I accepted a glass of water instead. I could feel the cool liquid make its way down, soothing my raw throat and anxiety-ridden chest.

It wasn't long until a pleasant female voice sounded through the speakers and stated that it was time to prepare for launch, the announcement ringing around the Launch Room and echoing, as if it wasn't terrible enough to hear the first time around.

Like a child, I grabbed after Cinna's hand and immediately collected comfort from it. He led me over to a circular pad on the floor, the rubber squishing beneath my boots as I begrudgingly stepped onto it.

"Remember everything that Haymitch said," Cinna reminded me, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. I meant to nod my head in response, but I only succeeded in widening my eyes. With every passing second, it felt as if my body was growing gradually more numb. I could hardly even feel Cinna's warm palm pressed against mine anymore.

"Find water," he continued, sensing my growing anxiety. A glass tube began to slowly lower itself down onto the launch pad, creaking loudly as it went. "Try to gather everything that you can, you never know what could become handy later!" Cinna yelled out, his voice barely audible over the whining of the machinery.

Once the tube had lowered itself onto our hands, separating our grips on each other and loudly dropping itself to the floor, it instantly felt as if I was suffocating. My breath fogged up my view of the outside world as it got increasingly more uneven, starbursts dotting my vision as my head grew heavier.

I stared blankly out in front of me, frantically wiping away the fog on the glass and giving Cinna a desperate look. He responded with an almost pained smile before tapping a forefinger under his chin. _Head up_.

I gulped, feeling claustrophobic and smothered inside the small imprisonment of the tube. The launch pad under my feet began to slowly rise up, threatening to make my trembling knees buckle. It carried me through the ceiling of the Launch Room, leaving me in complete and utter darkness as it continued to rise up.

_Get yourself together_, I demanded harshly, gulping insistently and making myself stand tall and firm. The launch pad pushed me out into the daylight, and my lungs were instantly filled with fresh air, relieving me from the inside. My eyes stung from the sudden brightness, blinding me for a few seconds and making me blink in an effort to retrieve my vision. I silently registered the scent of pine trees and the cool wind whipping my braid over my shoulders.

The speakers around the arena crackled for a moment before the legendary voice of Claudius Templesmith, the announcer of the games, filled everyone's ears.

_"Ladies and Gentleman, let the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games begin!"_

* * *

**Song credit goes to OneRepublic — Counting Stars (**youtube dot com / watch?v=9BMnXXrvcyA**) Give it a listen!**


	13. Chapter 13

**THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR READING. It seriously means the world to me.**

* * *

_**The Hunger Games**_** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

_Get. Yourself. Together._

A slight feeling of repose wallowed at the back of my mind, reminding me that all the tributes were given a safe sixty seconds on their platforms to think of a strategy before finally setting off into what could be their instant demise. Although it did soothe my writhing heart, it didn't shake the sudden deadened sensation that pulsed through my torso and snaked through my legs.

Claudius Templesmith's eager voice was replaced by an even more offsetting ticking noise that rang throughout the arena, signifying that our time of safety was almost over. Adrenaline seemed to burst through my veins at this thought, and I blinked my panic-stricken eyes insistently until I was certain that I could survey my surroundings clearly.

The first thing that filled my vision was the Cornucopia, a monstrously sized golden horn that all the tributes were spaced equally away from. The mouth, which towered at a staggering twenty feet, spilled with valuable items that could mean salvation for any of us. These items were strewn across the flat, open stretch of grass-speckled dirt, the quality decreasing the farther away they were from the horn.

I forced mouthfuls of icy air into my lungs, despite the protests my taut chest made, before darting my eyes away from the Cornucopia and toward the tributes that were closest to me. The males from Districts 6 and 8 were posed on the platforms to my sides, their features contorted with fright as they eyed the thick growths of pine trees surrounding the area with desperation. I silently noted that I probably didn't need to worry about them attacking me once the gong rang.

My gaze unconsciously swept across the rest of the tributes, the panic that I had swallowed moments before rising into my throat again as I realized that Gale was positioned a wavering twelve tributes away from me, the farthest he could have possibly been. It only succeeded in increasing once I registered the look of sheer determination in his stormy eyes, directed toward the horn.

I followed his gaze, only to see that on top of a pile of blanket rolls was a shining silver bow, acquainted by a sheath of arrows that sported the same metallic color. Almost frantically, I peered over at Gale again, only to see that he was readying his legs to dash over to it. My thoughts went into a frenzy as I deciphered what he was planning to do.

The ticking noise echoing through the speakers suddenly became unbearably loud as Cato and Clove caught my vision, their eager eyes darting from me to Gale, their teeth bared with an almost hunger-like anticipation. Suddenly, their words in the Training Center carried much more weight than they had earlier as they echoed in my head.

_"They're the first ones we kill."_

The ticking rattled my eardrums, sending waves of pain throughout my skull as everything around me began to blur together into one terrible mass. Then, the ticks stopped altogether. For a moment we all stood in complete silence, not even the wind filling our ears, until the gong finally sounded.

The sound of feet slapping against the earth instantly replaced the silence as tributes ran either into the trees or towards the horn with all the speed they could possibly muster. Without thinking, I gave Gale one last glance, only to see that he was leading the way towards the horn with almost soundless grace. My legs unconsciously began to carry me toward his side.

"Oh, no you don't!" Clove's tremulous voice rang from my side, making me whip my head around and narrow my gaze at the set of throwing knives she was in the process of picking up. It was as if an animalistic sense of survival took over in that moment, wiping away all traces of fear and replacing them with pure instinct.

"Glimmer! Marvel! Take out the ones that ran into the forest!" Cato demanded across the Cornucopia, tailing Gale and swinging unyielding fists at the unfortunate tributes that were near him, "Clove, you take the girl!"

"What do you _think_ I'm doing, dumbass?" Clove hissed back, plucking a knife up from her set and twirling it between her slender fingers. Her movements were as smooth and fluid as water. I widened my eyes as I silently took in her icy glare.

I had seen Clove at the knife-throwing station a couple times in the Training Center. She never missed.

Without a second thought, I dove towards the item that was closest to me, and almost let out a strained groan when I silently registered that it was just a long, polished wooden stick.

_"Ha!"_ Clove laughed, her voice as sharp as the knives in her hands, "No one's coming to save you now." With a couple clicks of her tongue, she posed the blade between her fingers before whisking it towards me. The weapon whistled through the air before just barely missing my forehead as I lunged out of the way, sticking into the ground just a few feet away from me and trembling in its place. I smirked. _Thanks for the knife._

Clove must have predicted my actions, because she came rushing over to me before I could even take two steps. There was no time to think before I swung the wooden stick at her head, making it snap as it connected to her cheek. She fell to the earth, giving me time to dash over to the knife and tear it out of the dirt.

_"You...!"_ she spat, venom dripping into her tone as she clapped a hand against her now reddened cheek, a few slivers of wood stuck into the swelled skin, "Oh, I am going to _enjoy_ killing you!"

With a sharp breath, I positioned the knife in my hand in an effort to throw it at Clove, but she was up on her feet and in front of me in seconds. She kicked at my torso, startling me and making me fall to the ground with a muffled yelp. It only seemed like a split second later that she was on top of me, her thighs securely locked in place as I struggled underneath her.

"You just got a lucky swing," Clove spat before giving me an almost crazed smile. In a final effort, I brought the knife up and sliced it across the meaty part of her shoulder, but her grin didn't even falter before she knocked the now bloody blade from my grip. She let her fair fingers brush against the set of knives at her side before she picked out the biggest of them all and hovered it against my throat.

"Katniss!" Gale's voice immediately cut through my thoughts, giving Clove a start as she whirled her head around. Almost instantly afterward, the point of an arrow shot through the same shoulder that I had slashed at, making a nauseating tearing sound as it tore through Clove's flesh. I seized the chance to kick her off of me, making her face-plant against the ground and let out a bloodcurdling, agonized scream as the arrow bent against the muscle in her arm.

My eyes frantically flitted to Gale before he swiftly helped me to my feet, the silver bow he had targeted glinting in his hand. "Go!" he demanded, pushing me in the direction of the trees. I made sure that he was following before I grabbed a knife from Clove's pile and took off, determinedly snatching a bright orange backpack from the ground along the way.

I tried to ignore the countless amount of corpses scattered across the Cornucopia as I directed all my attention towards the forest in front of me, blood trickling down my throat from where Clove had pricked the skin.

"Clove!" I heard Cato squawk from behind, a note of hysteria in his tone, only to be answered by unintelligible, gurgling demands from his district partner. A rabid sense of danger rose into my throat as I silently registered the sound of the District 2 male's booming footsteps follow Gale and I into the brush of the trees.

I allowed myself one glance toward our pursuer, only to see that he was seething with pure malice as he readied a spear in his hand. He threw the spear, and I sidestepped out of the way at the last minute, only to feel the tip of the weapon connect to the backpack I was carrying and stick to the trunk of a nearby tree. I heard Gale let out a string of curses under his breath as we were forced to leave the pack behind.

A wave of relief washed over me as I realized that Cato had only brought one spear, but it immediately diminished once I heard his footsteps increase frighteningly in speed behind us. I gave Gale a panic-stricken sideways glance, and he responded by almost exasperatedly stringing an arrow into the bow he was carrying and shooting it at Cato, boorishly running backwards as he aimed.

To my horror, Cato dodged the arrow without trouble before choking out an almost demented fit of laughter, as if the chase was succeeding in adding onto his eagerness.

Gale's eyebrows crinkled together in frustration as he proceeded to repeatedly shoot at him, only to just barely swipe the points of the arrows against Cato's flesh. He let out an extended groan as he gripped what seemed like his last arrow securely in his hand, his knuckles whitening from the force before he suddenly stopped in his tracks. I hadn't even registered Gale's actions before he allowed Cato to reach arms-length distance.

I whirled myself around, feeling a scream tangle itself into my vocal cords as I saw Cato twist his features into a frenzied smile. Gale didn't even give him enough time to raise a fist before he jabbed the arrow he was holding just below the right side of Cato's collarbone.

The District 2 male hissed out a staggering amount of curses before clamping his hands around the arrow, possibly planning to tug it out, but only succeeding in staining his hands with the nauseating amount of blood that was now streaming out of his wound.

Without thinking, I rushed over to Gale before clutching onto the sleeve of his shirt and lugging him away, adrenaline boosting my speed and making everything pass by in a blur.

My heart was racing in a way that made my breaths come out uneven, and I found it very difficult to remove my hand from Gale as we darted through the trees.

* * *

"Are you _insane?"_

Gale and I hadn't dared to slow down until we had put at least a mile's distance between us and where we had left Cato bleeding, and I still couldn't bring myself to release my death grip on his shirt.

I felt tears sting my eyes as I forced breaths of icy dusk air into my lungs, rattling my ribcage with pure panic. "You could've been killed! _Twice!"_

Gale peered down at me with lidded eyes, a mixture of puzzlement and worry pooling behind his ashen irises. We had stopped near a clump of willow trees, the drooping branches and long tresses of flowing leaves concealing us from any nearby disturbances.

"What was I supposed to do? Miss another shot? Let Cato get near you?" Gale countered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It didn't seem to bother him that my hand was tangled in the material of his sleeve like I was holding onto it for dear life.

"It wasn't only that. What were you doing rushing headfirst into the Cornucopia? Haymitch said for us to get the hell out of there once the gong rang!" My voice was unusually high-pitched and frantic, and I had to force myself to quiet down. If anyone was near, I didn't want them to be able to find us.

Gale let out a quiet sigh, his silver eyes raking over my trembling figure. "Why don't you understand? I did it for you."

My chest flooded with a sort of fluttering feeling, as if it was filled with millions of beating wings. "Throwing yourself into danger? How is that doing something for me?" I demanded, a pressure beating against the backside of my eyes and leaving starbursts in my vision. I knew that I was overreacting, but I couldn't seem to be able to swallow down the seemingly permanent panic in my throat.

Gale pursed his lips into a stern line before gingerly brushing the backside of his hand against my cheek, which only succeeded in making my trembles more violent. "This is the Hunger Games. As long as we're alive, we're throwing ourselves into danger."

I gulped and stared at Gale with widened, haunted eyes, wanting to deny his words but knowing deep down that he was right. There was no way that we could be a hundred percent safe in this arena. I inhaled deeply, feeling my breath sting my raw throat as it slowly soothed by frantic nerves.

Gale abruptly placed a gentle finger below my chin and raised my head so that I was facing the sky, making me think that he wanted to meet eyes with me, but he seemed more interested in looking at my throat. "You have a cut," he noted, studying the dried blood through slitted eyes.

"It's nothing," I mumbled stubbornly, lowering my head and hiding the cut. I had to force back the dread threatening to weigh itself down in the pit of my stomach as I remembered that it very well could have meant the end of everything for me. If it wasn't for Gale, I would be on my way home right now, ice cold and in a casket.

Gale furrowed his eyebrows at me before quietly groaning to himself. "Once we find a stream, I'm going to clean it out for you. Even if I have to tie you up and sit on you while I'm doing it," he murmured with equal stubbornness.

An ear-piercing blast suddenly blared from the sky, the sound thunderous and booming. My eyes darted around in confusion before I remembered that each fatality set off a cannon shot in the arena, signifying that a deceased tribute was in the process of getting picked up by a hovercraft. On the first day in the arena, the death-rate is usually so high that they didn't even fire the cannons until the initial killing at the Cornucopia was over.

This cannon was followed by another, and another, until my eardrums were quivering from the clamorous noises. It seemed like hours had passed once everything grew quiet again.

"Eleven," Gale noted almost absently, "There were eleven cannons."

"Thirteen tributes left, including us," I added with a deep breath.

The haunting thought of Rue being one of those eleven immediately made my stomach knot up. Maybe she was already limp and strewn across the dirt, bled white and dangling from the claw of a hovercraft. I swallowed hard and tried to force these thoughts to the back of my mind, knowing that my questions would be answered once the deaths were projected into the night sky.

Maybe it would even be better if Rue was gone. I knew the second I laid eyes on her that I would become too attached, and that never bodes well in the Games.

* * *

"...Is that really all we have?" Gale was peering down at the items we had managed to collect at the Cornucopia, disapproval etching his features.

I raised my eyes to look at him before feeling the corners of my mouth curl downward. "Yeah. I dropped the backpack," I mumbled, brushing a finger across the knife I had snatched from Clove's set while she was writhing on the dirt.

"So, we have a knife, a bow, and a sheath..." Gale's frown deepened, "with no arrows."

"Yeah," I repeated, exhaling sharply. Shivers trickled their way down my spine in response to the cold night air, making me pull my heat-reflecting jacket closer to my skin.

Gale and I had spent about an hour in search of a water source, but had only succeeded in finding an abundance of trees. I silently remembered how all I wanted in the arena was a forest for cover, and felt a slight feeling of regret prod my thoughts.

"Are you cold?" Gale asked, arching an eyebrow at me before leaning back against the trunk of the willow we were in. We had begrudgingly settled in this tree after the darkness of night had fallen, its thick branches and thick cover alluring.

"No," I lied, only to be betrayed by my body sending a fit of shivers through my torso. The corner of Gale's mouth quirked into an amused grin before he opened his arms and gestured for me to get closer to him. _"No," _I repeated, a harsh edge in my tone. This only succeeded in widening his smile.

"C'mon, I'm toasty warm," he pressed with a light chuckle, "and the last thing we need is for you to get sick."

I frowned, feeling the freezing air bite against my already frigid limbs. "I won't get sick."

"Are you sure?" Gale pushed in a persuasive tone, gesturing toward himself again.

With a sigh, I reluctantly crawled my way over to him, careful to not shake the thick branch we were on, easing myself against Gale's torso and instantly feeling his body heat radiate through his clothes. He wrapped his sturdy arms around me, instantly engulfing me in comforting warmth that soothed my aching nerves from the outside. I resisted the urge to greedily inhale his natural scent of pine as he nuzzled himself closer, succeeding in making my cheeks heat up.

"See? Isn't this better?" Gale chimed, a smile apparent in his voice.

The anthem suddenly blared from all around us, and I felt Gale's body immediately stiffen against mine. I craned my neck to get a better view of the sky, knowing that the death recap would follow. The haunting thought of Rue being taken out prodded my thoughts again, and was accompanied by thoughts of Cato and Clove as well. The wound Gale had given Cato certainly could have been fatal.

I peered through the thick curtain of leaves from the willow and spotted the Capitol seal floating in the night sky, projected onto an enormous screen carried by a hovercraft. The screen was big enough to be viewed from all over the arena by the tributes who made it through the day.

The way they revealed the deaths was disturbingly similar to the way they revealed the training scores—it would sport the same picture, and the number beneath it was still shining and golden. The only difference was that instead of a score, it had their district number.

Back in the districts, full coverage of all the deaths would be shone with each terrible detail zoomed in upon and emphasized. That was decided to be unfair in the arena; it would reveal not only the weapons each tribute had, but the way they fought as well.

The anthem faded away into silence and the Capitol seal vanished, only to reveal a blank screen for a few agonizing moments. This was quickly replaced by an image of the girl from District 3, her eyes bright and framed by her chestnut, twirled hair.

"Clove and Cato survived?" Gale asked breathily, his tone edged with disbelief. He grew even more tense beside me.

The girl's picture was wiped away from the screen and an image of the boy from District 4 soon appeared, giving me a slight start. It was very rare that any of the Careers died on the first day. I unconsciously inched closer into Gale's torso as the image of the boy from District 5 soon filled the empty space of the screen, putting me even more on edge as I realized that the fox-faced girl was still on the loose. With a deep breath, I watched as all the tributes from Districts 6 and 7 took turns appearing on the screen, their eyes still filled with a shining sense of vigor that had doubtlessly been drained after their pictures had been taken. The boy from 8 replaced them, and then both of the tributes from 9 replaced him.

There was still one more to go. My heart seemed to plunge all the way to the ground as my thoughts were directed to Rue, only to be flooded with a wave of relief once the screen revealed that it was instead the girl from 10. Her picture vanished and a final view of the Capitol seal accompanied by a short musical flourish filled the screen before fading into the darkness, allowing the sounds of the forest to resume.

_"Clove and Cato survived?"_ Gale repeated, his voice strained.

I swallowed hard before directing my gaze at the ground below us, hoping that we wouldn't somehow fall during the night. "They're Careers. Probably got some type of medicine and bandages from the Cornucopia," I murmured before exhaling sharply. I was hoping that I could use the plants around us if we ever needed anything medicinal, but I couldn't even place a name to most of them.

Gale stayed silent, but his grip got increasingly more tight and protective around my torso.

* * *

The only thing keeping me grounded as we sat silently in the willow tree was the gentle sound of Gale breathing. I pressed my ear against his chest in an effort to discreetly amplify the noise, which I hoped would drain out the rest of the world around me.

"Go to sleep. I'll keep watch," Gale murmured into my hair, his voice lined with both exhaustion and uneasiness.

"I can't," I mumbled back before inhaling deeply. It was as if my eyes were glued open by the fear of someone catching us in the middle of the night. Careers were always known to go around in a pack, picking off the rest of the tributes when they were in their weariest, weakest states.

Gale chuckled, the sound pained and tired. "Me neither."

Suddenly, the pounding of feet against the dirt caught my ear, making me stiffen and squint through the leaves of the tree. Gale heard it too, and he turned his head like a dog after catching a scent.

"Marvel, lets slow down. It's not like we're going to find anyone soon."

I instantly recognized this voice as Glimmer's, making me turn to stone against Gale's torso. I didn't dare to even breathe when I spotted the blinding light of several flashlights beaming into the treetops, making half-asleep birds clumsily scatter into the night sky.

I heard Marvel let out a strained sigh, which was followed by the piercing noise of Glimmer and who I assumed to be the girl from District 4 laughing.

"The longer I get to stay away from the District 2 crazies, the better," Marvel muttered, swishing his flashlight uncomfortably close to the willow tree Gale and I were in.

"Yeah, did you _see_ Clove after she got hit by that arrow? She was trying to tear it out herself," the girl from District 4 exclaimed, her high-pitched voice grating against my eardrums, "She lashed out at my district partner when he tried to help her. Ended up slicing his throat open."

Glimmer made a disgusted noise before running a delicate hand through her yellow locks of hair. "I knew she was going to be one of _those_ tributes," she said, her poshness apparent even in her tone, "right from the start."

"Cato has been talking about all the ways he's going to kill the tributes from District 12 ever since he saw them in the gym," Marvel added, leaning himself against a tree, "How he's going to cut them to bits, pierce their skulls with spears, slice their limbs off, make sure they're alive through it...blah, blah, blah."

"What's so special about the two from 12? As far as I'm concerned, they're just ordinary trash from the slums who don't deserve all the effort it takes to kill slowly," Glimmer declared, pointing her nose in the air. I felt Gale tense beside me, the anger behind his ashen irises almost glowing through the darkness.

Marvel let out another sigh, and Glimmer responded by rolling her emerald eyes. "Well, whatever. At least it'll give the audience a good show."

* * *

**Please review!**


	14. Chapter 14

**I'm getting some reviews about how you guys don't want the ending of this story to be the same as the one in the actual book that involved the nightlock berries. I just want to reassure everyone that I'm toying with two possible endings for this entire thing, and both of them are much different. (:**

* * *

_**The Hunger Games**_** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

"You know what?" asked the girl from District 4, shaking her long chestnut hair out of her eyes, "I don't even think Cato and Clove are up for the job of killing those two District 12 rats."

Glimmer lowered her jade-colored eyes until her full eyelashes cast shadows against her porcelain cheeks. "I think you're right," she agreed, "They don't look so good right now, especially with those wounds bloodying up everything at the Cornucopia." A disgusted croak sounded from the back of her throat.

Marvel tentatively tightened his fingers around the flashlight in his grip before crinkling his eyebrows together. "Don't underestimate them."

I felt a sudden jolt surge through my veins as Gale abruptly shifted under me, his hand quietly patting the branch we were on in a doubtless search for our small pile of supplies. My body tensed against his as I continued to squint through the brush of the willow, struggling to study the Careers through the dawning light. They all seemed to be armed with weapons cloaked in sheaths or covers, the deadly items dangling inches away from their bloodthirsty hands. What damage would a knife and an arrow-less bow do against them?

In one fluid movement, I clapped my hand against Gale's and viciously shook my head in hopes that it would discourage him from challenging the Career pack below us. He responded by letting his eyes rake over to mine, his stormy irises flooded with something that startled me—a mixture of both protection and affection.

I unintentionally lost my grip on the branch we were on for a split second, the leaves around us rustling once I had snapped out of my reverie and steadied myself.

Marvel's eyes swept across the willow Gale and I were in, the light of his flashlight swaying across the foliage and sending my heart into my throat. I gritted my teeth and unconsciously scooted myself closer to the safety of Gale's torso, expecting Marvel to alert the other Careers of his discovery immediately. Instead, I slowly registered with perplexed eyes that the District 1 male had turned in the opposite direction, his hand brushing lightly against the metallic shaft of the medieval mace in his belt.

"We should probably get going. Cato wouldn't be pleased if we came back to the Cornucopia with no blood on our hands," Marvel muttered, his feet shuffling against the dirt as he gestured for the rest of the Career pack to follow dismissively. Glimmer and the girl from District 4 obeyed without question, their flashlights beaming against the treetops around them as they hurried away.

I felt my eyes widen into blank disks as I stared into nothing, my pulse beating wildly against my ribcage. Had Marvel really caught sight of Gale and I, or was that just my imagination? And if he did, why would he turn away, when he obviously had the upper hand with all the weapons at the Careers' disposal?

"Catnip," Gale whispered, his voice cutting into my thoughts and his warm breath scattering across my face as he gingerly shook my shoulder, "Let's go. The sun is rising."

I blinked my eyes in an effort to clear my vision before peering at the horizon, traces of sun rays mixing into what was once the night sky and leaving it a mixture of contrasting colors. With a sharp breath, I urged my legs to swing themselves over the branch, but my limbs seemed to be locked in place. Whether it was from the shock of Marvel's actions, the cold morning air, or how close Gale was, I didn't know.

"Catnip," Gale repeated, raising his hand from my shoulder and to my cheek, his touch as light as a feather against my skin.

Throughout the night, the cameras were probably struggling to get a good shot of us up in the willow, competing against both the coverage of the leaves and the darkness. Gale and I were both guaranteed a close-up as soon as we emerged from the tresses of the tree, especially after escaping from that encounter with the Career pack. We'd better make it so that our appearance on the television screens across the country gave the audience a reason to sponsor us.

As soon as this thought left me, I felt Gale's sturdy hands slide themselves to the small of my back and below the undersides of my knees before he swooped me into the security of his arms, bridal style. Before I had the chance to react, he jumped from the tree with utmost grace and landed on his feet with a muffled plop, an amused grin plastered to his features as he studied my aghast expression.

He carefully set me back on my feet, and I realized with great clumsiness that I had grappled at Gale's broad shoulders in the seconds that we were falling back to the ground, making it so that my arms were wrapped securely around his neck. I unhinged myself immediately, only to stumble backwards awkwardly from the sudden weight on my feet, making Gale have to gently grab my hips to steady me. There was no doubt that the blush pooling in my cheeks was caught effortlessly by the cameras situated around us, lit up by the dawn light.

_That_ was definitely not how I wanted my close-up to go. I felt the redness in my cheeks deepen as I darted my gaze to the ground.

Gale snorted. "After you," he said, the corner of his mouth quirking as he gestured for me to walk in front of him.

I frowned before hesitantly complying, which only made Gale's grin widen.

* * *

The forest was quiet. In fact, it was much too quiet for me to let my guard down. Apart from the occasional rustle a rabbit made as it darted into the bushes, it seemed as if Gale and I were left alone in the trees. This sense of solitude was only an illusion, though; the cameras were doubtlessly following our every step, unless the death of a tribute was beckoning them elsewhere.

The sound of Gale hissing out a curse caught my ear, and I curiously craned my neck to give him a quizzical glance.

"Another one got away," he mumbled, disappointment apparent in his tone as he twisted the small throwing knife between his fingers. I instantly knew that he was talking about a rabbit, and felt a corner of my mouth curl downward into a half-frown.

"If I just had something to make into a snare, we'd be having a feast by now," Gale added stubbornly before letting his gaze wander to the treetops.

I looked down into the empty silver sheath in my hands, the bow wrapped around my torso seemingly increasing in weight as time went on. Not only did we have no food, but the dryness in my throat was a constant reminder that we had no source of water, either.

It wasn't rare that tributes went through the first few days in a haze of agonizing thirst and hunger. In fact, the Capitol viewed it as the second most amusing thing to watch as we all fought desperately for our lives; the first, of course, being bloody showdowns.

I swallowed hard in an attempt to moisten my gullet, but only felt the roughness of my tongue rub against the back of my throat. The muscles in my stomach had begun to cramp, and the pulsating pain in my head only became more apparent as the sun made its way to the center of its arch across the sky, beaming through the canopy of the trees.

"Catnip!" Gale suddenly called out, the cheerfulness in his tone giving me a start. "I'm a genius!"

I arched an eyebrow at him before securing the sheath across my shoulder. "What?"

The curve of Gale's smile was subtle across his full lips. "I'm about to make you the best wooden arrows you've ever had the pleasure of shooting."

My eyebrows flew up at this news before I raised my head to peer at the tall, aged pine trees surrounding the clearing we were situated in, their straight branches perfect for fashioning arrows.

"You're a genius!" I chimed without thinking, throwing the sheath to the dirt and hinging my hands onto the trunk of a nearby pine. Its bark was rough against my palms as I hoisted myself upwards, choosing my footing carefully and breaking off the slender branches as I went.

Gale let out a quick chuckle, shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun as he watched me scurry up the trunk. "I've always been suspicious of you being part squirrel, and this just settles it," he yelled up at me in a teasing tone.

By the time I made it back to the ground, a handful of sticks clasped tightly in my free hand, Gale had already went to work on the branches that I had dropped to the earth from the treetop. Pine needles laid disarrayed around him, littering the grass-speckled dirt as he sliced them away from the sticks with the serrated edge of the throwing knife.

I found myself gazing at his hands in wonder, his calloused fingertips working with both swiftness and precision as he skillfully carved a sharp point onto the front of the arrow shaft. The tree flesh that was revealed once he slashed at it was a fair white color, framed by a pale green that surrounded the remaining bark.

"I hope you know that this means you're catching dinner tonight," Gale announced, raising his eyes to look at me but not pausing his hand movements.

The corners of my mouth raised into a slight grin as I set the sticks I was holding at his feet. "I'm not complaining."

Gale's eyes glinted before he gestured to the pile of finished arrows beside him. "Go on, try them out," he encouraged, kicking one towards me, "They don't have feathers, so it'll be a little off, but you can handle that."

A childish feeling of giddiness gripped my heart before I pulled the silver bow over my head and off my torso, my mouth tightening into an unconscious grin as I bent down to retrieve the arrow. It felt a little flimsy in my grip, but the point looked sharp enough to draw blood, and that's all that really mattered.

Without a second thought, I strung the arrow onto the bow using the delicately carved notch it had on its back end and held it straight out in front of me, the movement natural to my experienced hands. I tugged the tightly wounded string back to my chin before aiming at a rustling bush, waiting for a clear shot of whatever swift-footed animal it had cloaked in its foliage. A pink-tipped nose poked out of the leaves, and my arrow went flying toward it before the animal even had a chance to move two inches.

The familiar sound of the pointed tip of an arrow connecting with flesh faintly reached my ears, and I raced toward it feeling light on my toes. I kicked away the brush impatiently, only to see a rabbit folded in on itself like a potato bug around the wooden shaft of the arrow.

"Good to see you," I chuckled, holding the rabbit out so Gale could see it from where he was standing.

* * *

Evening was just beginning to fall once Gale was on his last branch, the dull part of the blade making a indentation on his fingertip as he sliced away at the stick's bark. I silently noted the redness in his fingers from overwork, and felt a pang of guilt in my ribcage as I shifted the now full silver sheath in my lap.

The initial euphoria from finally being armed with a decent weapon had worn off hours ago, leaving me to dwell on my parched throat and achy muscles again. The rabbit I had shot laid at my feet, blood from the wound in its neck now drying into a maroon crust against its pale gray coat.

"And...done," Gale breathed, tossing the final wooden arrow into the sheath with newly arisen triumph apparent in his movements, "Now to find some way to cook that rabbit."

I pursed my lips before eyeing the animal in front of us with hesitant eyes. "If we build a fire, the smoke would lead the Careers directly to us."

"And we just so happen to have a brand-new batch of arrows and a skilled archer on our hands," Gale countered with a grin, shoving the throwing knife into his belt, "I think we'll be fine. Besides, remember the last time we tried to eat raw rabbit?"

I inwardly grimaced as the memory made its way to the surface of my mind, leaving a faint trail of recollected nausea in the pit of my stomach. "Rabbit fever," I said with a shiver, earning an amused grin from Gale.

I had been given the throwing knife to skin and gut the rabbit while Gale set off to find fire wood and tinder. A slight feeling of uneasiness welled in my chest as I pressed the blade of the knife to the rabbit's stomach, staining the once shining metal with blood as I sliced into the animal's flesh. The act of preparing game for eating had become so familiar to my hands that I could do it without thinking, which only resulted in my mind lingering on other things.

It was very rare, especially this early in the games, to have almost an entire day without any interruptions. Maybe the Gamemakers were feeling generous for once.

I inwardly scoffed before dismissing that thought completely. There must be some other terrible thing going on elsewhere to entertain the viewers so that traps weren't necessary to spur on killing, but what?

My thoughts immediately directed themselves toward the Careers. I hadn't heard any cannons today, and eleven was a startlingly low death rate for the second day. Were they waiting until the fear of being captured by them became so unbearable that it drew some of the tributes to insanity? By the looks of it, most of them were interested in giving the audience a good show.

I gritted my teeth before tearing away the last of the rabbit's pelt and leaving it abandoned under a pile of leaves along with its feet, tail, head, and innards. Maybe the Careers were busy with their own problems, as difficult as it was to believe. I silently remembered what Glimmer had said this morning about Clove and Cato, and felt an inexplicable feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.

A faint snapping sound echoed from above, making my ears perk as I whirled my head upward to peer in the direction of it. The treetops were eerily still as the feeling of uneasiness in my chest rose into my throat.

I was about to dismiss the sound as my imagination when a blur of almost invisible blackness caught the corner of my eye, making me dart my gaze over to the now rustling foliage of two nearby pine trees.

My pulse quickened against my ribcage as every one of my instincts screamed at me to flee. Instead, I planted my feet in the dirt and stared with wide eyes at the treetops, only to be met by silence.

"Hey, Catnip—"

I whirled myself around, the still bloody knife readied in my hand as I reflexively raised it in front of me, only to see Gale, who now had a very perplexed look plastered to his features.

"Is everything okay?" he asked in a stern tone, immediately dropping the armful of dried tinder he had collected onto the dirt and hurrying over to my side, gripping my shoulder with a secure hand.

I swallowed hard before lowering the knife and opening my mouth to respond, only to be interrupted when another snapping noise sounded from the same trees.

"We have to go," I stated suddenly, my breaths uneven as I hastily collected the sheath and the bow off the ground.

"Wh—" Gale started, but I was already pushing him in the direction of the brush before he could finish.

The snapping noise seemed to get closer, never leaving the tops of the trees and always being followed by an inexplicable blur of movement.

"We _need_ to go," I demanded harshly, grabbing Gale's forearm and feeling the muscles under his smooth skin tense as we rushed through the thickets.

* * *

"Did you suddenly get the urge to go on a nice evening run?" Gale joked, but I could tell that his heart wasn't completely in it.

I furrowed my eyebrows together before trying to find the correct words to describe what had happened, only to become gradually more aware that he would think I was going insane. Instead, I settled on letting out an elongated sigh and continuing to walk downhill, feeling the dirt getting slightly more moist under my feet. Usually, I'd prefer to be on higher ground, but the lure of a possible stream was too strong for me to resist.

Gale arched a puzzled eyebrow, keeping a steady pace beside me. "Was the tinder I got so horrifically bad that we had to run away from it?"

My heart seemed to be doing somersaults inside my chest as I staggered forward, finally feeling the exhaustion of today's events catch up with me. "No, it was...There was something in the trees," I murmured halfheartedly, hoping that Gale wouldn't question me any further.

He responded by giving me a studious look as he ducked his head under tree branches, his raven hair brushing lightly against his forehead and falling into his ashen eyes. I resisted the urge to reach up and stroke it away.

"This is the first time in years that I haven't been completely sure of what you're feeling," Gale murmured, gazing at me through half-lidded eyes, "I don't like it."

I pushed my lips into a stern line before frowning at the ground in front of me. The trees seemed to be swaying in my vision, and I seemed to be getting increasingly more lightheaded with each step I forced myself to take. "Do you want me to tell you what I'm feeling, then?"

"That would be great," Gale responded immediately, his eyes lighting up like a child's on their birthday.

I exhaled sharply, stealing a sideways glance at him before forcing the words out of my lips. "Confusion. Panic. Mostly panic. Also, I'm starting to think that I'm getting delusional. That's always fun."

Gale's irises immediately filled with the same urgency that I had seen earlier, making me raise my eyebrows at him. My body seemed too weak to be surprised as I shuffled my feet forward through the damp soil, my head becoming too heavy for my neck to support.

"Delusions," Gale echoed, the word sounding wrong in his perfect voice. _Perfect?_ Where did that come from?

It was almost startling when I realized that my hands were gripping at my temples wildly. Starbursts dotted my vision, making it so that the trees in front of me were covered with bright specks as I seemingly blundered into them. The world around me began to mold into a gigantic spiral, swallowing me into its depth as I abruptly felt the sensation of falling.

It seemed to last forever, the falling. I expected for it to stop with a painful collision to the ground, but I was instead met by what felt like a pair of strong arms wrapping themselves around my torso.

My ears were filled with a buzzing sound as the inside of my skull was covered in what felt like a thin layer of fire, burning my brain and sending my muscles into spasms. My stomach lurched as everything in it clamped into a painful cramp, only to become unbearably agonizing until everything finally went numb.

_This is nice_, I thought, blackness taking over my once dizzying vision.

I was only slightly aware of Gale calling out to me, the sound muffled against my eardrums, as if I was encased in a pool of water.

* * *

"_Katniss, honey. You don't hold it like that."_

_I peered at the wooden bow in my grip with stubborn eyes, gradually realizing that the world around me had grown in size at least sevenfold. I only reached the knees of the man in front of me, and he had to bend down to pat the top of my head with his gentle hands._

"_Repeat after me. String, pull, aim, fire," he said in a voice that was soothing against my eardrums, a sort of musical edge to it. Mockingjays gathered around in the trees, attempting to copy the simple yet hypnotizing sound of this man's tone._

"_Katniss, go ahead and try it. I know you have it in you," the man murmured._

_I raised my hands, only to see that they were as tiny as a child's. They awkwardly fit around the handmade bow I was attempting to maneuver, and my aim was incredibly off as I fired an arrow that was meant to hit a nearby tree trunk, but only succeeded in landing a couple feet in front of me._

_The man laughed, the sound instantly causing a smile to conjure onto my features, despite my failure. The mockingjays bursted into a wave of song, the man's tone still too complex for them to capture._

_I watched with curious eyes as the man got onto his knees in front of me, revealing his olive-toned face and sleek black hair. My silver eyes were reflected in his glassy ones, framed with both laugh and worry wrinkles._

_I inwardly gasped, my limbs locking in place as the man stroked a loving hand against my cheek, his fingertips coarse against my skin. "That's my daughter," he murmured, his tone filled with affection as he tore the arrow out of the dirt and handed it back to me._

_The world around us, once so peaceful and absent of worries, began to crumble under our feet. The smile plastered to my father's features didn't even falter as clouds of smoke began to erupt around us, a wall of flames closing in around him._

_The stinging scent of smoke suddenly filled my nostrils as my skin was covered in a thick layer of coal dust. "N-No!" I choked out, the word grating against my raw throat as I tried to squint through the smoke with tear-filled eyes. "Don't leave me!"_

_Don't leave me!_

_Don't leave me!_

_Don't leave me!_

"Don't..." I began to stir back to reality, my heart beating like a drum against my chest and the hollow of my collarbone collecting cold sweat, "...leave me."

"Wasn't planning to," Gale responded almost immediately, giving me a start and making me whirl my head in his direction. His face was contorted into a mask of concern as he gripped what looked like a bottle of water in his strained fingers. "Nightmare?"

"W-What?" I asked, still not completely aware of my surroundings. I silently registered the sound of flowing water beside me and the feeling of a damp piece of cloth on my forehead, cooling my scorched temperature.

"Did you have a nightmare?" Gale repeated, pushing the bottle of water towards me. I peered at the bottom of his shirt, only to see where he had ripped a sizable piece of cloth off of it. As if on cue, he reached for the piece of material on my forehead and gently raised it off before dipping it back into the stream we were next to. "You were sleeping, after all."

"What?" I echoed, raising myself off of the tree trunk I was positioned against. My head felt heavy, but I was relieved to realize that there were no cramps in my stomach.

Gale chuckled before squeezing the excess water from the ripped cloth of his shirt and setting it back of my forehead. "Cramps, spasms, dizziness, delusions," he started, gazing at me with contemplative eyes, "All symptoms of severe dehydration. You fainted, Catnip."

I arched my eyebrows at him, feeling my pulse gradually slow as my anxiety lifted away. "What happened after that?"

Gale let out an elongated sigh before gesturing toward the stream beside us. "What should have happened a long time ago. Found you some water. We weren't that far away from it," he muttered, raking an uneasy hand through his raven locks, "Then, the weirdest thing happened. I was deciding whether or not I should let you drink this without boiling it. Then, I heard a snap from the trees, and out came this." Gale grabbed a bright orange backpack from his side, a hole apparent in the strap from where Cato had pinned it to a tree trunk. "It just...fell from the trees."

The snapping. I silently remembered when I had heard it coming from above when I was busy skinning a rabbit. I was about to dismiss it as a symptom of the dehydration, but now I wasn't so sure. "Maybe it was a gift from the sponsors," I suggested hesitantly, already knowing the answer before Gale had given it to me.

"No, they only send parachutes, and this was on the Cornucopia during the bloodbath. You picked it up, remember?" Gale insisted, opening the backpack and revealing its contents. "Look, we have a sleeping bag, matches, sunglasses, dried beef strips, crackers, wire, iodine, and that," he said cheerfully, gesturing towards the water bottle in my hand, "Not to mention the stuff we had before. I'd say we're well-supplied now."

"And it just...came from the trees?" I asked hesitantly, letting my gaze wander to the treetops above us.

"Yeah, as hard as that is to believe," Gale countered, biting the inside of his cheek and crinkling his eyebrows together, "It was hell waiting for that water to purify while you were unconscious in front of me, but I'm glad I did it. You looked so peaceful once you had something clean to drink. You even...said something to me."

I darted my gaze to Gale, perplexed by the grin he was now sporting across his features. I tried to remember saying anything to him through the thick haze the nightmare casted across my memory, but all I got was blankness. "What did I say?"

Gale's smile deepened. "I think I'll just keep that to myself," he murmured.

And if I wasn't mistaken, his voice was a little unsteady.

* * *

**I really hope this chapter didn't drag on too much. Please review!**


	15. Chapter 15

_**The Hunger Games **_**belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

_You even...said something to me._

The ends of the dark hair framing Gale's features seemed newly wet, as if he had recently splashed his face with water from the stream beside us. Shadows were starting to stain the smooth skin under his weary eyes, which only made a pang of guilt contract in my chest—he probably hadn't gotten a wink of sleep since we set foot in the arena.

Gale turned his head away from the stream before locking his slate eyes on mine, which only made the darkness tarnishing his eyelids more noticeable. He swept his dark hair out of his face with an impatient hand before shooting me an almost tentative grin. "You can stare at me all you want. I'm still not going to tell you."

I furrowed my eyebrows in frustration before swiftly darting my gaze to the water bottle I had clenched in my hands, the gnawing feeling of not knowing what had come out of my own mouth while I was unconscious weighing itself down in the pit of my stomach. "Why, though?"

"I already told you," Gale pursed his lips before he eased himself beside me, his warm shoulder brushing against mine as he positioned himself against the same tree trunk I was leaning on, "I want to keep it all to myself."

I felt my mouth twist into a pout as I shot him the most bitter look I could muster. "Since when did we start keeping secrets?"

This only brought a snort out of Gale as he promptly reached for the water bottle I was holding, his fingertips grazing my hand in a way that made my cheeks curiously heat up. He freed the bottle from my grip before bringing it to his mouth and letting the cool liquid cascade down his throat.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, Catnip," he muttered in a waning tone after taking the bottle away from his lips, "It's not like it was anything bad. In fact, I personally enjoyed what you said."

I arched my eyebrows quizzically at Gale, which only deepened the look of amusement lightening his features as he peered at me over the top of the water bottle in his hands. His mischievous grin was making a reappearance, which only made me realize how dry his lips had gotten since the first day in the arena. "If it was so enjoyable, then you should tell me what it was," I grumbled in a stubborn tone.

"I can't," Gale crinkled his eyebrows together, his tone suddenly softened into a hesitant murmur that almost succeeded in giving me a start, "If I did, you would probably say that you didn't mean it."

"Maybe I wouldn't," I huffed, turning my head away and darting my eyes to the dirt. It was almost puzzling how I was letting a petty thing like not knowing what I had said in an unconscious state bother me, especially since we were in an arena where every other living thing was posed to kill us.

Gale let out a quick chuckle, the melodic sound faintly coming from the very back of his throat. "Are you saying that, no matter what you said, you won't take it back?" he lilted, placing a light finger below my chin and turning my head so that I was facing his now deeply studious ashen eyes.

It was as if a current of warmth surged through my body and pooled in my cheeks against my will, making a trembling feeling trickle its way through my torso and reverberate off of my eardrums. "I'm not promising anything," I mumbled under my breath, my voice as small and distant as an echo. It was only when I silently registered how Gale's amused grin had reached his beaming eyes that I realized how hot my cheeks had gotten.

"You know, I never saw you blush before we got reaped," Gale muttered, tentatively inching his face closer to mine and moving his finger away from my chin so that he could envelope my cheek with his warm palm, "It's..." He paused, examining my expression intently before the corner of his mouth quirked into what looked like a sincere smile. "...weird. But cute."

With terrible suddenness, a cannon sliced through the once calm air, seemingly rocking the very ground we were on with its thunderous rumble. I could feel Gale tense beside me before he swiftly got to his feet and slung the bright orange backpack over his shoulder. "Let's move downstream," he grunted, all traces of the tenderness he once had in his tone completely wiped away and replaced with uneasiness.

I nodded before standing myself up, the hurried movement making my head sway slightly as I gathered the bow and sheath off the damp dirt. Gale gently pushed me in front of him before we traveled beside the running water, his touch gradually becoming more electrifying against my skin.

Despite this, I couldn't help but notice how the quiet sound of rustling leaves and snapping branches in the treetops seemed to follow us.

* * *

The sound of a small animal treading across the dirt caught my ear, and the silver bow was readied in my grasp without another passing second. My hand found its way to the sheath positioned against my spine before I wrapped my fingers around one of the handmade arrows, its wooden shaft rough against my skin as I swiftly strung it into the bow. My eyes narrowed at the crisp foliage in front of me as I pulled the bow's string back to my chin and listened for the faint footsteps of the animal to reach my ears again.

I stood silently and stiffly with the bow outstretched in front of my torso before being answered by the almost inaudible sound of rabbit feet slapping against the dirt. My arrow cut through the air like a razor blade before it skewered the swift-footed animal mid-leap.

I exhaled sharply before lowering the silver bow to my side and letting my gaze rake across the crumpled frame of the rabbit I had shot, my wooden arrow sticking out of its side and brushing against its copper colored fur.

Gale and I had decided to catch something to eat before the sun set, our stomachs clamped with hunger and the dry morsels from the backpack too precious to be eaten impulsively. Gale had left with the new coil of wire posed between his fingers to set up a few snares, leaving me to shoot at the sizable population of rabbits around the area. I kept missing their eyes, possibly because of the lack of feathers to smooth the arrows' zooming trails.

We weren't far from each other or the clearing by the stream where we had decided to leave our heaviest belongings. The orange backpack was left in that clearing, which enabled it to lead us back with its bright color shining through the foliage.

The corner of my mouth curled downward as I silently remembered how the last rabbit I had shot was left abandoned somewhere in the forest for another mouth to eat, the inexplicable noises coming from the trees driving me to flee without it. As I almost absently made my way over to my fresh game, I made a mental note to never waste a kill again.

"Hey, Catnip."

I whirled myself around, my grip tightening around the bow in my hand as I took in Gale's startling presence. "You need to stop sneaking up on me," I muttered in a breathy tone.

Gale let a ghost of a smirk play across his lips as he broke through the thin wall of brush separating him from the clearing I was in. He twirled the coil of wire between his fingers. "The snares I set up should catch something by tomorrow morning," he stated, his smokey eyes brightening as they landed on the shot rabbit at my feet.

I lowered my gaze to the limp animal laid across the dirt before I bent down to tangle my fingers into its thick pelt, its fur soft and tufted against my fingertips. My hands made a habitual move to toss it into my game bag, only to find that it wasn't positioned where it normally was at my side, but on the ground in my home back in District 12. My lips tightened before I begrudgingly let the rabbit dangle from my fingers.

"We should cook this before nightfall," I noted, letting my gaze wander to the dimming sky above us, "the fire would be less noticeable in the light."

"Lets hurry back to the stream, then," Gale said, gesturing toward the brush behind him. He grinned at the lifeless rabbit in my hands before letting me lead the way into the foliage. "Cook it quick, though. The sun is setting."

"I shot it. I don't think it's fair that I have to cook it, too," I teased, a smile playing on my lips as I made my way back in the direction to where we had left the backpack.

Gale let out a chuckle, the sound slurred and soothing to my eardrums. "C'mon, it's been too long since I've gotten to eat your cooking," he complained with mock-fuss.

I opened my mouth to respond, only to be cut off by the sudden sound of footsteps in the distance. They were too heavy to belong to a rabbit or any other small animal, and the way they almost made the very ground beneath my feet vibrate made me think that they didn't belong to any of the Careers, either.

I let my gaze dart over to Gale, who was now staring into the brush in front of us with alert eyes. His lips tightened into a frown before he reached out to grab my forearm, stepping in front of me protectively as we quickened our pace toward the stream. The footsteps only got increasingly louder, making my heart slip into my throat and my grip around the silver bow unconsciously tighten.

_Stomp, stomp, stomp._

I pushed my lips together into a stern line before instinctively inching myself closer into Gale's torso, his body heat radiating through the thin fabric of his shirt and the cloth gripping onto his lean muscles like black paint. He must have left his heat-reflecting jacket back at the stream.

_Stomp, stomp—_

My eyebrows arched as the booming noise came to a halt without warning, making me strain my ears in an attempt to pick up another trace of it. Gale visibly tensed before he broke out into a run, his grip on my forearm unbroken as we crashed through the thick clusters of leaves. I swiftly matched my pace with his before preparing myself to whip out an arrow, ignoring every single one of my instincts as we rushed toward where we had left our supplies.

Gale reached out a stiff arm to break through a final tuft of brush that covered the clearing next to the stream.

The scene that had greeted me after that made me think that I was hallucinating again.

Gale made a faint noise of surprise that sounded at the back of his throat before his fingers uncertainly found their way to the knife in his belt, his features tightening into a look of incredulity as he took in who was standing in front of us, our newly found orange backpack in the intruder's meaty fingers.

"Thresh?" I blurted out without thinking, the rabbit slipping from my grip as I hesitantly readied the silver bow in my hands.

Gale's mouth twisted into a scowl at the hugely built tribute in front of him before he sidestepped in front of me, his movements almost invisibly fast as he planted his feet into the dirt.

Thresh's grip on the orange backpack tightened as his dark, hardened eyes raked over our weapons. He tentatively stepped closer to us, his footsteps clamorous and almost strange paired up with the soft look of unwilling sheepishness twisting his ox-like features, as if he was ashamed of being caught.

Gale practically snarled in Thresh's direction before he whipped out the knife and darted forward, preventing the District 11 male from coming any closer to me. He jerked the blade up, making it reflect the dimming sunlight as it hovered against Thresh's enormous throat.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you right here," Gale hissed, his eyebrows furrowed into something that looked extremely conflicted. He had never ended a human life before, and I could tell by the slight tremble in his hands that he wasn't exactly eager to start.

Thresh didn't even seem alarmed at the sudden blade at his throat. He let his gaze sway over to Gale before he crinkled his thick eyebrows together, gesturing toward the orange backpack in his hands before he finally spoke.

"Because, 12," Thresh bellowed, his deep voice edged with exhaustion, "The little girl in the trees. She'll die without this."

_Snap._

I didn't even have enough time to be surprised before I whirled my head upward in the direction of the treetops, only to be met by a pair of glistening, opaque eyes hidden in the leaves. Gale must have been caught off guard by Thresh's explanation, because the District 11 male slipped from his grip and dropped the backpack before disappearing into the brush, obviously not wanting anything to do with what was about to unfold.

My eyes widened into disks as I unconsciously stepped toward the tree, my head swaying as everything began to connect together.

The rustling and snapping in the trees wasn't a sign of me going mad, it was the sound of small, sprightly limbs dashing through the branches. The backpack hadn't simply come from above, it had fallen from the delicate grip of a giving hand that just so happened to be hiding in the leaves.

I watched as the shimmering eyes in the tree filled with a fleeting look of dread, possibly from the fright of being found out. They darted away from me, and I realized with great dismay that the owner of the hand that possibly saved my life was about to flee.

"Wait—!" I blurted out without thinking, making the eyes in the tree sway back to me. I swallowed hard, knowing that this was no way to act in the Hunger Games. All the people glued to their television sets across Panem were probably expecting me to string an arrow into my bow and shoot at the open target in front of me, but my arms were limp at my sides. I couldn't shoot at the eyes in front of me any more than I could shoot at my own sister.

"I won't hurt you. I _promise_ I won't hurt you," I murmured as I watched the eyes in the tree gradually fill with more disbelief. "Rue."

* * *

The smoke rising into the air put me on edge, its silver curls staining the clear azure sky and contrasting against the pale colors painting the horizon as the sun set. The smell of cooked rabbit meat filled my nostrils, making the feeling of gnawing hunger in my stomach more apparent as I watched the food in the blazing fire at my feet gradually turn brown as it crackled in the flames.

The silver bow rested at my side, my fingers uneasily brushing against its handle as I prepared myself for an attack. The smoke seemed a thousand shades darker than what I was used to, its swirls signaling any possible tributes of our whereabouts.

Gale was standing stiffly next to me, his arms crossed in front of his chest as he frowned at the fire below him, the flames illuminating his exhausted features. I could tell he wasn't pleased with my latest decision, even though he hadn't said anything about it when I was helping a little girl from the trees and insisting that she let us feed her; it was the least we could do.

"Rue?" I murmured, my voice small as I jabbed the knife into the rabbit meat in front of us. A thin stream of red juice spurted out of where I had sliced it, making it apparent that it still needed a while for it to cook completely.

Rue's dusky eyes darted over to me at the sound of her name, panic still obviously etching her features as she uncomfortably sat across from me at the other side of the fire. The flames seemed to dance in the center of her dark irises as she gulped and uneasily furrowed her thin eyebrows. "Yes?"

Her voice was as tremulous as I had remembered it, but there was a thick haze of fear clouding her usually trilling timbre. I pursed my lips before prodding the rabbit meat with the knife again, only to be met by the same red juice gushing out of the incision. "Why did you give us the backpack?"

Gale's eyes swept across me before they landed on Rue, who tensed once she felt his slate irises study her. "I wasn't planning to, I was just...watching," Rue stammered, bringing a tiny hand to brush her raven tresses out of her slanted eyes, "That's what I've been doing ever since we got to the arena—watching. And running, I suppose. I had just gotten back from spying on the Careers when I saw that you fainted."

Gale clenched his jaw at the memory, and I gave him a quick sideways glance before directing my attention back to Rue as she pursed her lips, perhaps thinking of the right words to explain what had happened.

"At first, I thought that you died," Rue mumbled, making Gale cringe, "but then I saw that your chest was rising and that you were still breathing. I had just went around the forest to collect things that people left after the bloodbath, and I found the backpack pinned to a tree with a spear. I went through it, and saw that it had iodine and a water bottle." Rue suddenly directed her glistening gaze to Gale, making him raise his eyebrows at her. "You," she started, pushing her lips into a thin line, "You looked absolutely horrified when she fainted, like you had the life sucked out of you."

I felt my eyes widen before I darted my gaze to Gale, who was staring almost sheepishly at the ground below him. I was half-expecting him to deny what Rue had said, but he stayed silent.

"You picked her up and started running. I don't even think you knew where you were going," Rue continued, her eyes still locked on Gale, "And then you reached the stream. At first, you looked at it as if it was God-sent, but then you started glaring at it. The look on your face was almost heartbreaking, and I instantly knew that it was because you couldn't purify the water before you gave it to her."

Gale's silver irises increasingly got more strained as he relived these events, his eyebrows crinkled into a pained grimace.

"You looked so helpless," Rue murmured, her eyes softening as she continued, "The iodine and water bottle in the backpack had gotten so much more difficult to carry after that. I couldn't stop thinking about how scared you looked, about how you couldn't stop stroking her hair and telling her to wake up. And then, before I knew it, I dropped the backpack next to you." Rue's small mouth quirked into a grin, "And when you saw the iodine and water bottle...I don't think I've ever seen anybody so happy before."

My heart skipped against my ribcage as I let Rue's words slowly sink in. I knew that Gale had saved my life by giving me that water, but I didn't know how much panic I had made him go through. I felt my lips curl into a warm smile against my will as I locked my gaze on Gale, and he responded by letting his eyes rake over to me and sighing. "See, Catnip? You're going to be the end of me," he mumbled, a note of affection in his tone.

Rue chuckled, the sound exactly like a bird chirping. Her hair was a thick, shadowy curtain across her shoulders as she pointed a tiny finger at the fire in front of her, her lips curled into a grin. "I know you two are busy staring at each other right now, but the rabbit is burning."

I felt my eyebrows fly up as I gripped the knife and frantically prodded the rabbit with it in an attempt to get it out of the flames that continually blackened its meat. Gale hurried toward the stream before filling the water bottle and tossing it onto the fire, putting it out and leaving a smoldering pile of ashes and a thoroughly cooked chunk of rabbit meat. Rue chuckled again, and I couldn't help but give her an exasperated smile.

I sliced the meat into three equal parts, and was relieved to see that the outside was only slightly charred. Gale ate his share without hesitance, and Rue still looked slightly uncomfortable pecking off the meat, as if it wasn't truly hers. I sank my teeth into my piece, the warm meat heating me up from the inside as the evening air began to fall onto us.

"Rue," Gale muttered, her name still sounding foreign on his tongue as he wiped his mouth with his hand, "Thresh tried to take the backpack earlier today. He said it was because you would die without it...What was that about?"

Rue crinkled her eyebrows together before peering at Gale with eyes that seemed too big for her small face, her dark irises shining as she took a tiny bite of the meat in her hands. "Oh," she murmured, swallowing hard before she continued, "He's been looking after me ever since we first met. Even in the Training Center, he would always stick close and never let the Careers even look at me. It was like he thought he was my big brother, or something."

Gale lowered his gaze to the dirt, as if he could relate to Thresh's actions. "Has he been protecting you in the arena?" he asked, stiffening. I suddenly expected the District 11 male to burst through the bushes, and found that my hand was unconsciously inching closer to the silver bow.

"Actually, no," Rue lilted, the corners of her mouth curling downward, "I haven't seen him since the first day of the games. I don't even know how he found out that I gave you the backpack."

I let out a faint sigh before popping the last bit of my rabbit meat in my mouth, the gnawing hunger in my stomach tamed. The sun had dipped beneath the horizon, leaving the sky with only pale traces of its rays in its dark blue expanse. "I only heard one cannon today," I noted, raising my eyes to glance at Rue, who wasn't even halfway done with her food, "You said you were spying on the Careers. Why haven't they been attacking the other tributes? Are they planning something?"

Rue narrowed her eyes and began choking on the food she had in her mouth, making me offer her the water bottle. She shook her head before swallowing hard and peering at me through half-lidded eyes. "I don't think they could plan anything, even if they wanted to," she mumbled, her eyes suddenly hardened with panic, "The two from District 2...they're insane. The cannon was caused by the boy. He sliced the girl from 4's throat, just because she came back to the Cornucopia before she killed anybody."

Gale tensed beside me, his eyes filled with a mixture of hatred and uneasiness. Rue tightened her lips so that her dimples were indenting her cheeks before she continued, "The boy from District 2 was about to kill the tributes from District 1, too, but they escaped before he could. The girl seemed like she got seriously injured, though." She brought a delicate hand up to push some of her thick, inky hair out of her face. "Careers _never_ kill other Careers, not before everyone else is dead. If they can do that to each other, imagine what they'll do to _us_."

I felt my pulse rock my ribcage as I began to silently imagine Cato and Clove in hazes of insanity, lashing out at their own allies in the Cornucopia as all the other tributes remained in the forest unscathed. That would be two Careers dead so far, only on the second day.

"I don't understand," Gale muttered, his voice edged with anger, "I shot both of them on the first day!"

"They bandaged each other up," Rue immediately responded, pursing her lips, "The boy looks fine, but the girl is getting worse. I think it's because she got a lot of dirt in her wound. It looks infected—she can barely even move her shoulder without screaming in pain."

I exhaled sharply before giving Rue an almost pleading look. "Well, maybe there won't be Careers in the arena this year," I muttered, making Gale raise his eyebrows at me, "Maybe they won't be the top alliance. Maybe, instead of them..." I let my voice drift off, and I could tell that Gale had already understood what I was saying. Rue, on the other hand, was still looking at me with puzzled eyes.

I let the corner of my mouth quirk into a grin. "..._We_ can be the top alliance."

"Ha. I'd like to see you try."

I whirled my head around, the sudden sound of a girl's high-pitched voice piercing my eardrums like needles. Gale had gotten to his feet in a second, and Rue was staring up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"Glimmer, shut up."

"Don't tell me to shut up! _You're_ the one who got us in this mess, anyway!"

"What? If I remember correctly, it was you who ran away screaming once Cato cut that annoying girl's throat. I just followed you."

I stood myself up before grabbing the silver bow off the ground and stringing it with a wooden arrow, my eyes peering around frantically through the night air. It wasn't long until two streams of light caught my vision from two flashlights, beaming into the treetops and slicing through the once calm darkness.

A tall, lanky boy with hair as black as a starless night sky broke through the bushes, his arena pants already torn at the knees and his cheeks stained with mud. Marvel.

"Okay, I admit that that wasn't the best way to greet you guys," he chortled, waving the girl behind him to follow in his steps. A curtain of bright blonde hair appeared behind Marvel before a slender girl with arena clothes that seemed too tight to be comfortable stepped beside him, her emerald eyes filled with disgust as she peered at us. Her black leggings were torn down the side, revealing a deep slice on her thigh that only a sword could make. Multiple scratches covered her face, and a sticky layer of blood matted the top of her yellow hair.

"What Glimmer probably meant," Marvel started, his eyebrows rising as he talked in a completely calm timbre, "was that she'd like to see you try to be the top alliance this year without _us._"

"What are you saying?" I hissed, raising the bow in front of me and aiming right for the District 1 male's forehead.

"Shoot 'em, Catnip," Gale grumbled, his mouth tightened into a hate-filled grimace at the two Careers in front of us.

Marvel frantically raised his hands in front of him as if he was surrendering. "Whoa, there. No need to be hasty," he barked, which only made Glimmer roll her eyes, "This isn't exactly easy for us, either. You see, we can't be allies with two nut-cases like Cato and Clove, but we still want to win. We decided to try to find the tributes we thought would have the best chance at just that—winning."

Gale let out a quick breath of laughter, the sound mocking and filled with venom as he glared at Marvel. "Are you saying what I thinkyou're saying?"

Glimmer groaned and stomped her right foot as if she was having a tantrum before she glowered at Gale. "You're _so_ lucky you're hot because you have one _annoying _personality," she grumbled, which only made her district partner elbow her in the ribs.

"Yeah, 12," Marvel muttered, his mouth curling into a grin that only succeeded in making my chest flare with anger, "Would you mind if we allied with you?"

* * *

**OH MAN.**

**Thanks so much for reading! Please review!**


	16. Chapter 16

_**The Hunger Games**_** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

I was sure that Marvel had to be joking.

The very thought of any tributes from District 12 allying with the Careers was unheard of. Entirely impossible, even, through the watery eyes of the overworked miners back home, who were all probably squawking each profanity they could think of at their flickering television screens right at this moment.

Yet Marvel gazed at Gale and I with determined eyes, the brilliant hues of blue in his irises shining as he awaited our response. His fair skin stretched over his prominent cheek bones as he twisted his mouth into a thin line, the lingering silence obviously setting him on edge. My grip on the silver bow tightened, the wooden arrow still aimed at Marvel's begrimed forehead despite my complete lack of murderous intent.

A sharp breath of laughter suddenly rang from beside me, the harsh edge of revulsion in the otherwise melodic sound sending a twinge of surprise through my already frigid torso. I let my eyes sway over to Gale, only to see that his features had hardened into a look so ferocious that I almost let my solid grip on my bowstring slip.

"Are you joking?" Gale hissed, making Marvel raise his eyebrows questioningly, "Do you really think we would ally with two of the Capitol's _lapdogs?"_

"Watch your mouth, Pretty Boy," Glimmer snarled before taking two heavy steps in our direction, only to have Marvel reach a stiff arm out to restrain her.

"Glimmer, don't ask for a fight if you can't handle one," Marvel muttered, his azure eyes strained. It was only then that I saw Glimmer's slender fingers brushing insistently against the handle of what could only be a long, sharp blade hooked onto her belt. There was a catch in my breath, and I was thankful that Gale was the only one close enough to hear it.

"What makes you think that I can't handle one?" Glimmer spat, creasing her eyebrows together and cracking the thin layer of dried blood plastered to her porcelain forehead. Marvel gave her a skeptical look, and she responded by curling her full lips into a scowl and resentfully stepping away from Gale and me, apparently succumbing to her district partner's silent commands.

Marvel inhaled sharply before crossing his taut arms in front of his chest and making his gaze more focused, almost making me flinch. "Is that your final answer, 12?" he drawled, his voice considerably less friendly than when he had first stepped into our clearing.

"It's tempting. Especially the part where you doubtlessly betray us, but," Gale retorted through a tight jaw, "I think we'll have to pass."

Marvel clicked his tongue before shaking his head, as if the decision disappointed him. "Oh well. You leave us no choice, then."

A glint appeared in Glimmer's jade-colored eyes before she whipped the blade out from her belt, the metal grinding against the sheath with an ear-piercing tearing noise. Her once defeated expression soon twisted into an eager one as she slashed it in front of her, air whistling around the weapon. "Don't forget the little one, Marv. She's been shaking behind those two District 12 rats this entire time."

My eyes widened before I silently made the connection, my insides twisting into a nauseating feeling of dread. _Rue._

I tore myself away from Gale's grasp before shooting my arrow blindly in front of me, the move a wild reflex. I watched as it sliced through the air, only managing to catch the very edge of Glimmer's arm and make a shallow cut against her already thoroughly wounded skin. She let out a hiss, her hand slapping against the cut before blood dribbled through the slits between her fingers.

"Oh, you _bitch_," Glimmer seethed, her emerald eyes blazing into something that made me want to rush to Rue's side. Marvel's features had tightened into a look of pure malice as his hands went to his belt, only to reveal the thick metal handle of the weapon he had attached to it. My eyes darted to the other end of his deadly item before a wave of terror washed over me, knowing the metallic spikes that were meant to pound victims into a bloody pulp too well—it was a mace. The darkness of the evening cloaked the menacing weapon well.

My hand found its way to the sheath positioned against my back before I snatched another arrow from it, only to have my limbs freeze in place after I registered the sound of Gale's footsteps hurrying toward Marvel. Hurrying toward the massive weapon in the Career's murderous hands, the spikes sharp and horrible enough to kill in one blow.

My body moved on its own; my brain was in too much of a rabid panic to have any say in my actions. Before I knew it, I had sent an arrow whizzing through the air before it skewered Marvel right above his collarbone, missing his neck by only a few inches. Gale had already been right in front of him, and he brought down his throwing knife with a vicious scissoring movement, only to have Marvel interrupt the blow by clapping his hand on Gale's forearm.

"A-_hem_."

I whirled my head around, only to see that Glimmer had reached arms-length distance away from me, her fair fingers wrapped around the rubber hilt of her blade.

She emitted a wicked smile, raising the blade above her head and crashing it downwards. I jumped out of the way, but the blade had caught my arm despite my efforts, slicing away a chunk of skin at my elbow. I let out a pained yelp before Glimmer hissed out a curse, fumbling with her weapon and instantly making me aware that she was clumsy with it. I tried to ignore the harsh stinging of my fresh wound as I leapt away, stringing an arrow into my bow as I went along.

"Hey! Get back here!" Glimmer seethed, gripping her sword incorrectly as she stepped toward me. It was then that I noticed the limp hindering her movement, the deep slice down her thigh the doubtless cause of it. I smirked.

A fluttering feeling of relief filled my ribcage as memories of eyeing the District 1 tributes in the gym entered my mind. Glimmer was never able to handle a weapon bigger than her palm with skill.

I pulled my bowstring back to my chin, taking care to aim right at her heart, before a muffled grunt of pain pierced my eardrums and turned my limbs into stone.

I whipped my head around, only to see that Gale was holding himself up against a tree, his palm stained red with blood as he held it tightly against his side. His shirt was ripped, revealing the torn flesh underneath it as he gritted his teeth to doubtlessly hold back an agonized scream. Marvel stood closely next to him, his mace dripping with red liquid, dampening the dirt under it.

Bile raised into my throat as the muscles in it contracted, making it impossible for words to reach my lips as my entire being seemed to be instantly flooded with horror. The bile burned, making my eyes water as I forced my body to react. Something, _anything_ would be better than just watching helplessly as blood streamed down Gale's side.

_"No!"_

My eyes widened, instantly startled by the tremulous sound of Rue's voice echoing throughout the night air. I turned my head around, my stiff neck aching as I forced it to move, only to see that Rue had lodged herself between Glimmer and me. Her tiny hands were wrapped around the fist Glimmer had her blade in, stopping the blow that would have sliced my head cleanly off while I was distracted.

I felt my eyes widen as I let the scene in front of me sink in—how Rue's opaque eyes were shimmering with tears, how Glimmer was frantically trying to shake her off as if she was nothing more than an unwanted spider, how my arms were still held outstretched in front of me, the arrow still pointed at the District 1 female's heart...

I didn't even have to think about it. My hand let go of the bowstring, sending the wooden arrow through the air. Everything seemed to go by sickeningly slow as I watched the arrow sink into Glimmer's chest, ripping through her flesh and wiping her face clean of all the rage I had previously seen in it. I had expected to see fear replace it, maybe regret, a little confusion, but instead, her expression seemed to be filled with relief. As if she couldn't wait to finally be out of this sadistic world.

My ears buzzed as Glimmer fell to the earth, her hands gripping the arrow sticking out of her chest as she squirmed in the dirt, the movements weak. Rue unlatched herself before stepping back and burying her face in her hands, her moans muffled with tears.

"Glimmer?" Marvel's voice was hoarse, his wounds weakening him as he rushed to his district partner's side, abandoning his bloodied mace and dropping it to the earth. My stomach wretched as I watched him crouch next to her, cradling her already lifeless face onto his lap. _"Glimmer?"_

My first kill. The first human life I had ended with my very own hands, and every terrible moment of it was doubtlessly being broadcasted across Panem. I would never be able to wash this blood off my hands.

_Killer._

"Glimmer, n-no. Wake up. Wake the _hell_ up," Marvel's voice was small as he absently stroked the blonde hair away from his Glimmer's sallow face, his features crinkled into a pained grimace as he eyed the thick blood dribbling out the side of her mouth. "You're the only one I have left..."

_Killerkillerkiller._

Despite the multiple wounds across his side, Gale's footsteps were just as silent as they always were. He loomed behind Marvel before raising the very same mace that had been crashed against his torso above his head. I braced myself, expecting for it to fall on the District 1 male head while he was preoccupied, but Gale let the spiked weapon dangle motionless in the air instead.

"Go," Gale mumbled flatly, his face tightening as he peered at the District 1 tributes below him, "Now. Before I change my mind."

Marvel seemed ten years younger as he slowly turned his head around to meet Gale's gaze, his eyes wide and shining with tears. He breathed heavily in disbelief, slipping his arms under Glimmer's limp frame before lifting her up and slowly heading back into the brush. He must have thought that we were out of earshot when he started to sob.

* * *

My entire body had begun to tremble once the cannon had finally echoed throughout the arena. Not only because it carried the usual racking forbode each cannon had, but because I knew it was for—her. That I had caused it.

The fact that it had sounded a long while after Marvel had drifted away from us only made it worse. Cannons didn't go off until the area around the body was cleared, meaning that he had stayed with Glimmer even after she died, still clinging onto the thread of hope that by some miracle, she'd be filled with life again. All because of me.

"Ouch."

I blinked, forcing myself out of my reverie. "Sorry," I murmured, my voice thick as I tried to make my hands more gentle. After Marvel had left, I forced myself to mentally organize the things that I absolutely had to do into a list. Naturally, at the top of the list was the task of treating Gale's wounds as best as I possibly could. At first, I had tried to clean them around his shirt, but the fabric had kept on sticking to the torn flesh, making him take it off impatiently after I had to peel it away from the dried blood a few times.

"It's not you, it's..." Gale cringed, clenching his jaw as he poked the raw flesh on his side, "It's this. You're doing fine."

I pursed my lips before unwillingly giving him a pleading look, only to make his expression even more conflicted than it already was. I knew that he was lying about me doing fine; I was doing a mediocre job, at best. There was a reason why my mother never asked me to help with her patients.

"I'm sorry," I repeated in a small voice, splashing water onto Gale's side in an attempt to wash away the dried blood encrusting his torso. My vision started to blur as I used a torn piece of fabric from my shirt to gently scrub the parts of his side that weren't shredded by Marvel's mace, surprised to find that my cheeks had become moist with tears. I choked, using my free hand to frantically rub my eyes.

Get let out a breathy, uneven sigh, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me into his bare chest. "Stop. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for," he whispered, stroking my hair out of my face and squeezing me closer into him.

I was mindful about Gale's wounds, trying not to touch them as I hesitantly wrapped my trembling arms around his neck. "Liar," I whispered back, still trying to hide my tears as I buried my face into the crook of his neck. He didn't smell like pine, as he usually did. He smelled like blood.

Gale let out a strained sigh before moving his lips to my ear and murmuring fervently into it, his grip around me tightening despite how it must have hurt him. "Katniss Everdeen, the day I lie to you will be the day I start trusting the Capitol."

My grip around his neck tightened against my will, making a wave of shudders surge through my torso. Gale responded by pulling me even closer so that I had no choice but to brush against the wound on his side with my hip. If it stung, he didn't let it show.

"Um." Rue's voice suddenly sounded from my side, giving me a slight start as I swiftly made a move to unhinge myself from Gale's neck, only to have him restrain me by locking his arms in place around my waist.

"I think," Rue chirped, sounding uncomfortable, "I think I have something for your wounds. Something to disinfect them."

I wiped my already stinging eyes with the back of my hand before craning my neck to peer at Rue from beneath Gale's chin, who was standing pigeon-toed beside us, clutching what looked like a bundle of flimsy stems covered with dark leaves in her hand.

Gale tentatively unwrapped one of his arms from my torso and reached out toward Rue, who swiftly dropped her findings into his palm. "What's this?"

Rue nervously darted her beady eyes to the side before lowering her voice to just above a whisper. _"Laurus nobilis,"_ she breathed, her tone steadying as we neared a topic she was insightful about, "but we just call them laurels in District 11. We use the leaves to make wounds heal faster."

Gale didn't try to hold me back again when I gingerly pushed myself off of him, wanting to survey the plant myself. The name sounded familiar, and I had a dim memory of flipping through my father's plant book and seeing a tall tree whose leaves, when chewed up, would both disinfect and speed up the healing process of a wound.

Gale opened his palm out to me, and I plucked a thick leaf from it. It was attached to a thin, yellowing stem and had a finely serrated edge that made its glossy green color stand out.

"You can test it out on me first," Rue suggested, her tone getting squeakier the more our silence dragged on. She pursed her thin lips before directing her gaze to me, her dark irises shining, "I just want to help. The same horror that I saw in his eyes when you fainted...I'm seeing it in yours now."

I felt myself flinch at Rue's words before unhinging myself completely from Gale, suddenly completely aware of my swollen eyes and raw cheeks. I had meant to thank Rue, but I could only manage to give her the same pleading look I had given Gale before I stuck one of the leaves into my mouth and chewed, ignoring the sharp minty taste that spread across my tongue as I did so. Rue, as if she had received a silent message from my look, crouched beside me and followed suit.

It seemed as if Rue had done this a million times before as she promptly took the chewed leaves out of her mouth and spread it on the sides of Gale's massive wound, the places where the mace's spikes had impacted his flesh considerably deeper than the rest. The flesh that was still intact around the wound was already bruising, the skin yellow and tender. Bad, but not fatal. I let out a quiet sigh of relief before spreading the leaves I had chewed next to Rue's.

My eyes had long-since adjusted to the dark after we had coated Gale's wound completely with the leaves. He was leaning against a tree, the tanned skin that wasn't wounded covered with goosebumps from the night air.

"I sure am lucky to have two doctors with me," Gale joked halfheartedly before Rue retrieved his abandoned shirt from beside him and wrapped it around his torso, tying it securely around the wound. He grimaced, obviously still suffering, but he tried to play it off as a forced smile instead.

I felt my eyebrows crinkle together as I surveyed the riverbank for Gale's jacket, and as if reading my thoughts, he grabbed my shoulders with strong hands before tugging me into his chest, his arms instinctively binding themselves around my waist. "Don't go," he murmured, the feeble edge in his tone startling me, "I'm warm enough without it."

I found myself clumsily straddling Gale's lap in an attempt to not touch his freshly dressed wound, and I heard Rue stifling a giggle from beside me.

With terrible suddenness, the anthem blared around the arena, making each one of us tense as we searched the sky for the screen that would show the death recaps for the day.

The Capitol seal shown through the thick foliage of the tree above us just before it was wiped away from the screen and replaced with an image of Glimmer, sending my pulse into a rabid flurry as my body turned to ice. The picture was taken before her porcelain skin was tainted with wounds and before her blonde hair was matted with blood. Before my arrow had lodged itself into her heart.

I swallowed hard in an attempt to control the trembles shooting themselves through my limbs, and I was almost grateful when an image of the girl from District 4 took Glimmer's place on the screen. Her picture was replaced by another shot of the Capitol seal and the unavoidable musical flourish that went with it before the screen faded into the blackness of the night sky.

Three Careers dead so far, and it was just the end of the second day.

A nauseating feeling of guilt was twisting itself in the pit of my stomach, making my chest heave slightly as I turned away from the sky and buried my face into Gale's shoulder, breathing in the fresh scent of his blood that only added onto my self-loathing. Why did I get to be armed with the beautiful silver bow he had gone through the trouble of snatching up at the Cornucopia, when he only had a throwing knife to protect himself with?

"Don't you ever, _ever,"_ I drawled, my grip on Gale's neck unconsciously tightening, "Go up against anyone with a mace again. Or any weapon, for that matter."

Gale nuzzled his face into my neck, making me shiver once I had felt him smile against it. "Are you worried about me, Catnip?" he teased, instantly making me aware at how close I had squeezed myself into him. I squirmed in an effort to draw myself away, but Gale kept me securely in place with his sturdy arms.

Rue giggled, the sound soft and soothing to my eardrums.

* * *

Exhaustion must have taken over Gale during the night. I had craned my neck to glance at him only to see that his forehead was resting on my shoulder, and that his chest was rising and falling with quiet, warm breaths that brushed across the crook of my neck, making surges of trembles rush through me. I couldn't stop a small smile from tugging at the corners of my lips; he needed rest more than anyone.

Rue and I had taken the opportunity to compare our supplies and plan ahead. She did most of the sorting since Gale was a light sleeper, and I didn't want to wake him by moving my shoulder.

It was almost funny how neither of us needed to say that we were allies to finalize the decision. We were already together, and she had somehow won over all of my trust in less than a day. I would've expected her to flee when Marvel and Glimmer came into the equation, but she had stuck with us, even when my arrow had pierced through Glimmer's chest and when Gale was limping behind them, mace in hand.

"Wow," she whispered, careful to keep her trilling voice low so she wouldn't wake Gale, "You made these arrows?"

"Gale did," I mumbled back with a grin, feeling an odd sense of pride swell in my chest.

Rue already knew what was in the orange backpack since she was the one who collected it after the bloodbath, so she kept it to the side as she carefully spread out the other items in between us. I could see her dusky eyes sway back to the arrows occasionally, as if she couldn't get over how sturdy they seemed for mere branches.

"Sorry, I don't have much," she mumbled, furrowing her eyebrows as if she was embarrassed as she revealed her extensive collection of roots, nuts, berries, and greens. I eyed the plump berries suspiciously, and she responded by letting a faint chuckle escape from her lips. "I'm from District 11, Katniss. Agriculture. I know a safe berry when I see one." As if to prove her point, she plucked one from the stack and popped it into her mouth, making sure that I saw her swallow.

Along with her gatherings, Rue had a small water skin, an extra pair of ragged socks, and a dulled dagger that she had also collected after the bloodbath from the trunk of an old pine tree.

The only thing I had to show her besides the backpack was the silver bow and the sheath filled with the wooden arrows that Gale had carved, but she seemed more than impressed. I also acknowledged the throwing knife I had gotten from Clove at the Cornucopia, and she seemed to understand that I couldn't show it to her once I mentioned that it was attached to Gale's belt.

The sun was already rising once we were done splitting our food into three equal parts, making the metallic end of the bloodied mace just feet away from us reflect its rays. I tensed at the weapon's spikes driven into the earth, knowing that they were once being torn across Gale's flesh.

Rue pursed her lips before tentatively scooting herself more to the side in an attempt to hide the mace from my vision, and I couldn't help but give her a weak smile. At least the weapon wasn't in the hands of a Career anymore, though I had an odd feeling that Marvel wouldn't be searching for us again anytime soon.

"Rue?" I mumbled, squinting my eyes in response to the sun's light breaking through the foliage of the trees. "How many of us are left? I've only been keeping track of the Careers."

She gave me a blank stare before holding her small hands in front of her face and counting on her fingers, going through all the tributes she could remember. "There's me, you, Gale, Thresh, the two from District 2, the boy from District 1..." Her sprightly voice drifted away as she crinkled her eyebrows together in thought, "Too many. Without the Careers, all the other tributes are just hiding out in the trees, waiting for someone else to kill them."

I flinched at Rue's strong words, and she responded by giving me a quizzical look. The games had surely aged her innocent twelve-year-old mind.

Gale began to stir, making me aware of how my arm had fallen asleep during the night from the weight of his head on my shoulder. I stretched it above my head after he pulled himself away from it and rubbed his eyes sleepily with the back of his hand.

"Was I asleep?" Gale wearily mumbled, his gray eyes darting around aimlessly until he silently answered his own question, causing him to give me an almost sulky look. "Why did you let me fall asleep?"

"Because you needed it," I responded matter-of-factly, resisting the urge to brush his sleep-tousled hair out of his smokey eyes. He gave me a defeated grin before quietly sighing to himself.

Gale wasn't one to complain, which most people would see as a good trait, but it only worried me more. It meant that I would never truly know how bad his wound was, or if he was in any type of pain that I could fix.

I watched with strained eyes as he tried to stand himself up, gritting his teeth as he struggled to his feet. His hands automatically found their way to his side before they gripped his wound, as if pressure would make the pain go away. Rue suggested replacing the leaves, but he assured her that that wouldn't be needed until later.

I never strayed far from Gale, worried that he might fall over the moment I wasn't there to catch him. The guilt combined with the overwhelming uneasiness I felt for his wound continued to eat away at me throughout the day, even when Rue was showing us which berries were safe to eat and Gale was joking about how he would bet that she was half-bird.

It must've been late afternoon when the sound of a cannon pierced the air, which made all three of us pause in our tracks for a moment as we silently wondered with great anxiety who it was for. As soon as we managed to shrug it off, another cannon echoed throughout the arena, soaking me to the very marrow of my bones with distress.

It wasn't until a third cannon reverberated off our eardrums that Rue suggested that she went into the trees to see what the Careers were doing.

"No," I ordered sternly, only to have Gale push his lips into a stern line before disagreeing with me.

"Rue was doing fine before this alliance. I'm sure she won't get into any trouble if she just checks up on the Cornucopia," he coaxed, giving me a speculative look beneath his eyelashes. I felt my features twist into a pained grimace, and he responded by wrapping his arm around my shoulders and dropping his voice to a comforting murmur. "She'll be back before you even have a chance to worry about her."

In the end, they both ended up convincing me, and Rue had readied herself in the foliage of the trees. I urged her to not snap any branches while she was up there, and she nodded with a slight smile, her teeth the only part of her I could see while she was cloaked in the dark tresses of the treetops.

The moment she was out of my sight was the moment I felt as if a part of my very being was torn away from me. I knew that I shouldn't feel that way about any other tribute besides Gale—he was the only one I was protecting in this arena with my life—but I couldn't help the rising panic in my chest.

"Relax, Catnip," he asserted, resting a strong arm on my shoulders and pulling me closer to him, "Rue's tough. I wouldn't be surprised if she came back here with a dead bear in her hands."

We both stood still for a while, expecting Rue to pop up in the treetops again without another moment's notice. I bit my bottom lip, already regretting that I'd let her go. I knew that I should have gone with her, but I couldn't flutter through the trees as quietly as she could. Maybe Gale would've been able to if it wasn't for the wound on his side.

It wasn't long before Gale noticed my slit elbow, the skin around it shriveled up and peeling. I had almost forgotten that Glimmer had sliced at it with her sword, but as soon as I remembered, the stinging had me rushing to the river to soothe it with cool water.

Gale forced me to sit down on the dirt before he cleaned the slice properly, his hands gentle as he brushed them across my skin. We used all the laurel leaves Rue had collected on his wound, so he had to settle with cleaning mine with water and wrapping a small piece of fabric from his pants around it. I wondered with dry amusement how long it would take before we had no more fabric to dress our wounds with. Cinna must have been in anguish.

We both ended up settling in front of a tree, our aching backs leaning against its rough trunk as we awaited Rue's arrival.

The sky was clear, giving the sun free reign across its azure expanse as it beamed through the treetops and onto my skin, the pleasant warmth contrasting with the piercing anxiety I felt in the pit of my stomach.

"...You think she's busy with that bear you mentioned?" I joked with a weak chuckle, feeling my breaths gradually become more uneven.

"Yeah. She should hurry and snap its neck already," Gale assured, his slightly unsteady voice putting me even more on edge than I already was.

The moment I heard a body dashing through the treetops, my initial reaction was to be filled with relief. I got to my feet, a smile tugging at my lips, when it finally hit me.

Rue was_ never_ that loud.

An entire symphony of snapping branches and rustling leaves hit my eardrums like punches, making my head ache as I aimlessly wandered around the clearing, Gale getting to his feet to worriedly follow me.

"Rue?" I called out, my voice shaking as I felt my heart slap against my ribcage, making me arch my back in an effort to soothe it.

A tiny figure suddenly burst through the foliage of the tree above me before it crashed to the ground, rolling through the dirt and leaving trails of dust in its path.

_"Rue!"_ I darted over to her, my feet reacting on their own as my brain recovered from the shock. I turned her over, and she widened her opaque eyes at me before sucking in a loud, sharp breath and coughing into her hands, revealing a large gash across her cheek and multiple twigs stuck in her thick wave of raven hair.

"M-Marvel...!" Rue choked out between coughs, her eyes watering as she struggled to sit up. She removed her hands from her mouth only to reveal, to my pure horror, spatters of blood on her petite palms. "He saw me! He threw a knife at me!"

I hadn't realized that Gale was beside me before he clenched his fist, his eyebrows crinkling above his gunpoint eyes. "Should've killed him when I had the chance," he muttered, helping Rue sit up.

Rue took a deep, trembling breath before shaking her head, as if to clear the thoughts from it. "And Clove...Her arm! She..." The wetness in her eyes threatened to drip over her eyelids, moistening her thick eyelashes as she stared horror-struck at the ground. "...She cut off her arm! Her _own_ arm, just because she was afraid of the infection spreading!"

I sucked in a sharp breath at the image of Clove slicing away at her infected shoulder with a blade, clenching her teeth to hold back agonized screams as blood streamed down her side and her arm gradually got more limp and lifeless.

"...And they were coming for me," Rue slowly realized, her eyes becoming wild, "They were chasing me! And I led them here!" She gripped the sides of her head with strained hands, her tears now running freely down her cheeks. "We need to _run!"_

* * *

**I thought it would be easier to keep track of things if I had a sort of Death List at the end of each chapter. Grim, but helpful!**

**Tributes dead so far:**

**Glimmer - District 1  
Female Tribute - District 3  
Male Tribute - District 4  
Female Tribute - District 4  
Male Tribute - District 5  
Male Tribute - District 6  
Female Tribute - District 6  
Male Tribute - District 7  
Female Tribute - District 7  
Male Tribute - District 8  
Male Tribute - District 9  
Female Tribute - District 9  
Female Tribute - District 10**

**I never noticed how many unnamed tributes there were until I made this, haha.**

**By the way, I didn't include the three cannons from this chapter. You'll find out who those were for NEXT TIME.**

**Please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

_**The Hunger Games **_**belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

"We need to _run! _Right _now!"_

My head pounded, the throbbing pain pulsating in time with my rabid heartbeat. Rue's hysterical voice lingered in the air, seemingly echoing in my eardrums and making my limbs lock in place as the meaning of her words slowly sank in.

Rue's frantic whimpering was lost as my mind plummeted into an empty space where sound and sight were muffled and dulled, as if my head was being pushed violently into a tub of dark water.

I was only slightly aware of Gale getting to his feet and hissing out a chain of curses as he stalked away, his legs stiff but carrying purpose. "I can hear them," he muttered from behind me, his voice piercing through my daze and causing a wave of trembles to surge through my limbs, "They're coming from all directions. They have us closed in."

"No...No, they can't."

I was puzzled when Rue had peeked over the hands she had buried her face in to peer at me, only to slowly realize that the words had burst out my own clenched teeth. I darted my head downward to stare at my palms, now covered with the sheen of a thin layer of sweat, before I forced myself to get to my feet and rub my eyes roughly, as if it would help carry me back to reality. "There are only three of them left," I explained shortly, "And one of them is probably already half-dead from blood loss."

"Good point," Gale agreed, making me crane my neck to look at him. I was startled to see the bloodied mace that had once been used to wound his side posed firmly in his fist. There was a ripple in his hard mask once I had locked gazes with him, as if he was ashamed of being seen with such a terrible weapon in his hand, but it was gone as soon as Rue let out another whimper.

"It's a gamble," Gale added, his features darkening, "Running into Cato would be a done deal."

I couldn't help but imagine Cato's stocky frame and thick arms, and how his glare was enough to silence an entire crowd of Capitolites during his interview. With a gulp, I saw that Gale's jaw had tightened, as if it pained him to admit that Cato would be a danger to us.

"This is all my fault," Rue suddenly choked out, causing me glance at her sideways. Her frantic expression looked wild paired up with her disheveled hair and torn arena clothing, and the whites of her eyes had reddened from her fresh tears. Her dark skin was etched with scratches from her rough landing, and the blood from her gashed cheek was drying into a maroon crust against the side of her face.

It was then that my head cleared enough to hear the distant but imminent forthcoming of rough footsteps heading in our direction, the careless tread accompanied by the occasional high-pitched voice of what could only be a Career calling out curt demands.

"Don't be silly," Gale reassured her, his expression exasperated as he adjusted his grip on the mace, looking uncomfortable as the spiked head of the weapon dangled against his side, "It was only a matter of time before something like this happened."

I became gradually more aware of the fact that our time had been quickly running out, and that the Career pack that had doubtlessly caused all three cannons earlier today was rushing in our direction. Every passing second was a second wasted.

"If we don't go soon, we'll have to deal with all three of them at once," I murmured under my breath, causing Gale's already stormy eyes to harden. He nodded before slinging the orange backpack over his shoulder. My eyes unconsciously darted to his wound, only to see that the black shirt wrapped around it had been dampening with what seemed to be fresh blood. My chest heaved, but I forced myself to tear my gaze away and focus on the task at hand.

I turned myself around before gathering the silver bow and sheath off the dirt and locking my gaze on Rue, who had been folding in on herself and wrapping her arms around her chest, as if she could make herself small enough to vanish completely.

I swallowed hard before crouching in front of her and trying to make the panic searing through my veins less apparent as she peeked out from behind her slender arms. "You should go into the trees again," I murmured, watching Rue's opaque eyes widen to the point where they looked unnatural paired up with her petite face, "You'll be safer that way."

Rue tightened her lips before nodding, the movement a slight twitch in her neck. Her legs seemed even more delicate than usual as she willed herself to stand up, only to have her features suddenly contort in pain as she put weight on her feet, her knees buckling and causing her to wobble back down to the earth.

"What's wrong?" I quaked, startled to see that I had been unconsciously reaching out toward her. Rue looked up at me with tears shining in her eyes, making my eyebrows crinkle in puzzlement. She silently tore the tarnished boot off her left foot, struggling with the tight leather and revealing her bare toes to the dry afternoon air. I felt a breath catch in my throat as my gaze locked on her ankle. It had swelled to almost the size of a small melon and was dotted with reddening bruises, the skin looking tender and bloated.

Rue let out a choked whimper, the sound coming from the very back of her throat. All the hysteria I had seen in her features earlier had evaporated and was replaced with an almost haunting look of emptiness—the look of someone who had lost all hope.

"I must have twisted my ankle on the way over here," Rue murmured, her voice slurred with tears as she forced a smile to tug at her thin lips, "Too bad adrenaline doesn't last, huh?"

"I'll carry you," Gale suddenly urged from behind me, already dropping the mace to the dirt. I craned my neck to glance at him, only to have my eyes find their way to the still bleeding wound on his side.

I sternly shook my head before slipping the silver bow around my torso. "I'll do it," I insisted, reaching my arms out toward Rue's petite frame, only to have my limbs turn to stone once the lingering noise of rustling leaves caught my ear from outside the clearing. The screeching voice of a Career suddenly rattled my eardrums, seemingly shaking the treetops around us with its piercing timbre.

"Come out, come out wherever you are..."

_Clove._ I knew her shrill, venom-drenched voice anywhere; it had come through the teeth of her wicked smile when she had hovered one of her throwing knives against my throat at the Cornucopia. All the other voices of the Career pack seemed deep in the woods, but hers was so clear that she could have been only mere feet away from our location.

I felt a shiver surge its way up my spine as my features twisted into a strained grimace, the mere sound of Clove's eager footsteps enough to paralyze my entire body with unexplainable fear. It was almost obvious that we would be able to take her—the blood loss from her recent self-inflicted injury should have her already falling into the awaiting claws of death—but I couldn't seem to shake the feeling of aching dread rocking through my body.

Clove let out an elongated sigh, the sound high-pitched and drenched with staged exaggeration. "District 12 _rodents_," she spat, her voice suddenly snapped into a malice-filled hiss, "I _know_ you're here somewhere." Her steps seemed to be slowing, as if she was savoring the moment by slithering around us. "Poor little Marvy...You'll pay for what you did to him."

I couldn't help but imagine her pale, sickly skin and her torn, shriveled nub where she had cut off the source of her infection. My eyes swayed over to Rue, and she seemed just as frightened as I was. Trembles had begun to visibly trickle their way up and down her spine, and her lips were parted and quivering, not daring to make a single sound.

A hand suddenly grazed my shoulder, and I had to hold back a gasp as I whipped my head around, only to see Gale eyeing me with strained, stormy eyes. It puzzled me to see how extremely conflicted his expression was—chapped lips pushed together, dark strands of hair falling into his eyes, broad shoulders set stiffly...I had to resist the urge to reach up and smooth all the pained creases out of Gale's otherwise smooth face as he silently gazed down at me.

My confusion only grew as he proceeded to cup the side of my face with a warm hand, his expression growing softer as he inched his face close to mine until his lips could softly brush against my forehead. The touch seemed to send waves of warmth throughout my entire body, making my knees buckle as his lips tentatively traveled to my ear, his breath tickling it as he softly whispered, "Take Rue and run."

My eyes widened before I whirled my head upward to catch Gale's gaze, but he had already stepped away from me and rushed into the brush towards Clove. I felt a scream build up behind my vocal cords as I saw him disappear into the foliage, mace in hand.

"Well, well, well..." I heard Clove chime through the thickets, a poison-tipped smile apparent in her voice, "If it isn't Lover Boy himself. I bet all that blood on your side is the handiwork of Marvy, right? He's a good boy."

My legs moved without my consent. I was darting through the trees before Clove could even begin her next sentence, an arrow already strung into my bow. Her shrill voice lingered in my eardrums until I had found both her and Gale standing stiffly in a disarray of branches and leaves.

"Oh, lookie here," Clove lilted, dragging her syllables as she let her dulled sepia irises sway in my direction, "It's the other District 12 rat, too. I must have hit the jackpot."

My breaths tore through my chest in fits as I slowly let my eyes lock onto District 2 female, only to have the mere sight of her crippled frame send bile up my throat, burning the back of my mouth as I slowly took the sight of her in.

The once perfectly smooth wave of chestnut hair that flowed over her shoulders was now a single knot resting on top of her sallow head, matted at the sides with dried blood and framing her sickeningly pale face. Her arena clothes were stained with blood in various areas, tearing at her torso and knees and revealing more of her pallid, withered skin.

None of this compared to the side of Clove's torso, where a messily bandaged bulge took the place of where her arm used to be, causing her lean to the side a bit, as if the absence of the limb set her off balance. She looked as if she was already dead, parts of her skin graying as if her body was decomposing.

I had to rake my eyes away, only to catch a glimpse of Gale gazing at me with a crinkled look of pain in his irises, screaming a silent message: _Why did you follow me?_

"How sweet, you two get to die together," Clove drawled, immediately snapping me out of my reverie and causing me to glance at her, only to have another wave of nausea pass through me at her appearance. She barred her teeth, her feeble fingers finding their way to her belt and revealing a couple of small throwing knives hooked onto it.

Gale's movements were almost invisibly fast as he stepped in front of me, making me widen my eyes in silent surprise. "What a bluff," he murmured through clenched teeth, his voice drenched with venom as he peered at the District 2 female in front of him, "Do you even have a single drop of blood left in you? I wouldn't be surprised if you couldn't even lift your arm up."

Clove let a sharp ring of laughter tear through her throat before she gave Gale a glare as sharp as glass, her weak eyes just barely carrying enough life to do so. "You're probably right. It's a good thing that I have two brutes on my side, then, isn't it?"

Gale tensed in front of me, and I felt myself do the same as I slowly registered the meaning of Clove's words. The District 2 female shot us a foul smile, her cracked lips stretching over her yellowing teeth, before she yelled as loud as she possibly could, making nearby birds scatter into the sunlight as her voice pierced the air. _"Cato! Marvel! I found them! They're right here!"_

I hurriedly pushed myself around Gale before raising my bow and taking aim at Clove's neck, my heart drumming against my ribcage and making my hands shake. I forced my gaze to narrow as I tried to work my way through the panic surging through my limbs, my fingers barely able to grip my bowstring as I clumsily pulled it to my chin.

Clove's jaw suddenly dropped into a silent scream, her brown eyes widening and her single arm falling limply at her side. I let out a trembling breath, thinking that I had managed to release my arrow, only to find with utmost confusion that it was still securely strung into my bow.

My eyes lowered to Clove's stomach where a dark stain rapidly spread throughout the tattered remains of her arena clothing—blood. She fell to the earth, face-planting into the dirt and revealing a very nauseated looking Marvel standing behind her, a bloodstained dagger held outstretched in front of him. At his feet was Clove's crumpled, inanimate frame, the knife wound at the center of her back making red liquid seep into the dirt around her.

"Go, you dimwits," Marvel hissed abruptly, not even bothering to wipe Clove's blood off his dagger before quickly shoving it back into his belt, "Cato's coming, and he _will _kill you both."

I felt my features twist into a gawk, and I thought I saw a flash of a grin tug at Marvel's thin lips in response to it. His brilliant blue eyes seemed to cut right through me as he stepped closer to us, his expression filled with something that puzzled me to the very pit of my stomach—a sort of soft, wanting look buried in his icy irises.

"Look at this," Marvel murmured sweetly, his gaze never leaving mine as he tentatively reached a hand up toward my cheek, "I never thought that a pretty girl would ever lead me to backstabbing my allies."

I furrowed my eyebrows in extreme confusion before Marvel let out a sigh, his azure eyes finding their way to the dirt. "Take care of yourself," he breathed.

I didn't even have enough time to respond before Gale grabbed my shoulder and tugged me away from the District 1 male, a scowl plastered to his features as he led me back toward the clearing.

Rue was still where we had left her, the tears that had once ran freely down her cheeks now dried into a salty crust against her dark skin. Her expression brightened once she saw us, and a crushing fact dawned on me: She must have thought that we had left her to die alone.

I slipped my hands under Rue's tiny frame before securing her in my grasp, her body as light as air compared to the overflowing game bags I had to carry back in District 12. My legs almost unconsciously followed in Gale's tracks as we rushed out of the clearing and into the trees.

The gentle, almost soothing sound of Marvel's voice just managed reached my ears through the thick layers of leaves that separated us. I picked up traces of, "Don't know where the District 12's went," and, "Clove was like that when I got here," as I put increasingly more space between myself and the District 1 Career.

I had managed to escape with Gale, Rue, and all of our supplies, but I just couldn't help but feel as if I had left something essential behind.

* * *

_Boom!_

I sat as still as a statue, waiting for a wave of overwhelming guilt to pulse through my body in response to Clove's cannon rippling through the air, just like it had when Glimmer's cannon sounded. I pushed my lips together as if I could physically brace myself for it, but it never came. I couldn't help but wonder if it was because Clove had already seemed dead the moment she stepped into the arena, all traces of her usual self gone and replaced with a crazed, almost animalistic lunatic.

"Well, look at that," Gale said with the low whistle, causing me to gaze sideways at him. The bloodied shirt we had used to bandage his side with laid abandoned on the dirt, and the chewed leaves that had been covering his wound flowed down the river we were all situated next to.

Gale's side was slippery with water, indicating that he had rinsed it and revealing that his once raw wound was now healing into a neat scab. Rue sat next to him with a knowing grin plastered onto her features.

"Wow," I blurted out, scooting myself closer to Gale to get a better look, "The leaves did that?"

"Laurel leaves can do wonders for open wounds," Rue explained wistfully, "They speed up the healing process and make the wound clean itself. That's probably why it was bleeding earlier." She gave us both a sweet smile. "I don't know what District 11 would do without them."

"I don't know what _I _would do without them," Gale murmured, still staring with disbelief down at his side.

Rue let out a tremulous giggle, and I couldn't help but give Gale a relieved smile as I tentatively ran my finger around the smooth skin around his scab. I was rewarded with a catch in his breath as a shiver ran through his torso at my touch.

The sun was ducking beneath the expanse of trees that surrounded us, letting dusk slowly chill the air.

We had followed the river to another clearing that was covered with bright moss and thin grass, the plants succeeding in soothing Rue as she sat quietly in front of a lichen-covered boulder, her swollen ankle outstretched in front of her.

It wasn't until the dryness of afternoon faded away that I had realized that we had left Gale's jacket at the clearing before we frantically fled away from it, wanting to put as much space between us and the Careers as possible.

Well, one of the Careers.

I felt a lump lodge itself in my throat as I forced this thought to the back of my mind, which was an easy task to do when Gale's goosebump-covered torso was right beside me. I leaned myself against him in an effort to transfer my body heat.

My head still seemed to be in a daze when the anthem sounded throughout the arena, making me lazily search the sky for the screen. It wasn't nearly dark enough to be night yet, so a pang of confusion prodded at my chest as I wondered why they were showing the death recaps early today.

The screen appeared above the foliage of the treetops in front of us, blocking out what little light the sun was offering as it slipped into the sky. The Capitol seal was taking up the wide expanse of the screen before it was replaced by an image of Clove, making a shudder creep its way up my spine. The picture was taken before she had become so incredibly tainted by the idea of surviving; she was even smiling, her eyes brightened and her arm still attached to her side.

I sucked in a breath as I waited for the three cannons from earlier today to be revealed, uneasiness welling up in my throat as I watched Clove's image disappear from the screen. It was replaced by the face of the male tribute from District 3, his eyes widened with fear and his irises framed by dark circles, indicating that he couldn't even sleep in the Training Center. The arena must have been hell for him, then. Next was the female tribute from District 8 and the male tribute from District 10, the one that had been hobbling around on his crippled foot during the interviews.

The screen blackened, not disappearing into the still dimly-lit sky and instead dipping beneath the trees and out of sight. I felt my head pound as I imagined how all the families felt about their children not lasting. How they reacted when their deaths were being shown on their television screens, eager narrations closing in on every gory detail.

Gale shivered beside me, doubtlessly in response to the frigid air against his bare torso. I pursed my lips in worry, and he responded by giving me an almost sheepish grin.

"You could still get closer, Catnip," he murmured, obviously trying to take the strain away from watching the death recaps. He wrapped a sturdy arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer into his torso.

My body seemed to instinctively tense as I waited for the scent of Gale's blood to seep into my nostrils, but his natural scent of pine seemed to be prevailing through it. In a flurry of mixed emotions, I found myself inhaling deeply, more relieved than anything that his wound had finally healed enough to not have to be bandaged anymore. I was interrupted when another shiver ran through Gale's body, making me aware of how my cheek was brushing against the goosebumps that covered the smooth skin of his chest.

His jacket was gone, but that didn't mean that he would have to spend the rest of his nights in the arena chilled to the bone.

Determined, I retrieved Gale's black arena shirt before dipping it into the river, tightening my lips in unease as I quickly washed the mixture of blood, dirt, and laurel leaves away from the fabric. My hands tightened around it, wringing the red-tinted water away from it and watching as the scarlet liquid trickled back into the river. I winced.

Gale placed his palm over the back of my hand before enclosing my fist in his, enveloping it in his body heat despite how he was freezing next to me. "You don't have to," he murmured, reaching out toward his shirt only to have me move it away from his fingers.

"I'll do it," I mumbled back stubbornly, only to make Gale's chest shake with silent laughter beside me.

"Your face is green, Catnip. You were never good with human blood," he crooned, reaching for the shirt again, "Let me do that." With a sigh, I let him take the fabric away from my hands before he proceeded to dip it back in the river, making the water around it cloud with blood.

My hands were left empty and task-less in my lap as I listened to the constant sound of water splashing against the bank of the river, leaving my mind free to wander.

I was almost startled when an image of Marvel's fair face took up the free space in my head, making a tremble shoot its way through my torso even though my heat-reflecting jacket was zipped securely around my torso. The brilliant blueness of his eyes, the slight shadows tinting his eyelids, the darkness of his tawny hair in contrast to his pale skin...

"Rue?" I murmured, reaching a hand up to brush a few stray hairs away from my face, desperate to find a task to occupy myself with.

Rue blinked in my direction, and I could see that she had already cleaned the gash on her cheek. It was now a delicate line across the side of her face, framing her cheek bone. "Yes?"

I cleared my throat uncomfortably before unconsciously scooting myself closer to Gale. "You said...You said that Marvel threw a knife at you."

I felt Gale tense beside me, making me chew at my lower lip in unease. I scooted myself even closer to him.

"Oh," Rue frowned, her voice weary, "It's odd, but now that I think about it...I think he missed on purpose."

Gale's frame grew even more tense, making me dart my gaze to his features, only to see that he had set his jaw firmly and that his lips were tightened into a stern line.

"Cato and Clove were with him. I think Clove was trying to flirt with him, calling him _Marvy_ and all that," Rue shuddered, lowering her head and fumbling with her fingers, "I think Marvel had just gotten there. He looked really confused and lost, it was almost...pitiful."

I let out a trembling breath while Gale seemed to get gradually more stiff beside me, his hands now hanging motionless in the river. I placed my palm on his forearm, the touch as light as a falling leaf, and he acknowledged it by giving me an almost pleading look.

Rue continued, unaware of how it was affecting Gale. "I shifted my weight. It was stupid. I ended up snapping a twig, and Cato immediately found me..." Rue paused to take a breath, obviously having trouble reliving the whole thing. "He took one of Clove's throwing knives, but Marvel...He ended up shoving Cato so that he would miss. The knife still ended up cutting my cheek, but I think Cato was aiming for my forehead."

"After that, Cato got really, _really_ mad. He punched Marvel in the stomach and started saying that he would cut Marvel to pieces if he didn't kill me himself. I was still shocked about being found, and the blood from my cheek...It just made me panic." Rue's eyes were starting to moisten with tears, making me open my mouth in an effort to tell her to stop, but she continued before I could utter a word. "I turned around and was about to jump into another tree, but I missed and ending up falling...I think that was when I twisted my ankle. I heard a pop."

"Rue—" I started, but she still continued, her tears now sticking to her eyelashes.

"I was so _scared_. Cato was yelling at Marvel, telling him to kill me while I was right in front of them and he...He just _wouldn't_..." Rue's tears were now falling over her cheeks, making her hiccup between her sentences. "It wasn't until I got into another tree that Marvel finally threw a knife at me. It didn't even come close...But I thought...I thought that he was trying to kill me, just because I was so scared. And then I blamed everything on him!"

Gale got up from beside me, tossing his shirt to the dirt before he stalked away, his features tightened into a pained grimace.

"They ended up following me...I was so stupid, I was scared of _Marvel_ when he was the only one telling them to stop, telling them that I was just a weak twelve-year-old and that I wasn't worth the effort..." She brushed a hand across her cheek in an effort to wipe away her tears, only to have more flow down from her eyes.

Rue seemed to be finished. Her sniffing was the only thing interrupting the strained silence that had fallen upon us.

"Gale," I started, feeling the lump in my throat grow bigger as I watched him slowly crane his neck to look at me sideways, his features twisted into something that looked extremely disturbed.

"Well," he suddenly muttered, crinkling his eyebrows as his hardened eyes strayed away from me, "I guess that lapdog really _is_ our ally." Gale inhaled sharply, his eyes narrowing into slits as if he had to force his words out. "Let's go find him."

"What?" I choked out, unconsciously getting to my feet and letting my eyebrows furrow in puzzlement. "But you—"

"It doesn't matter what _I_ think about this," Gale argued, his tone suddenly drenched with frustration as he turned his head to peer at me, his ashen eyes filled with desperation, "If he can protect you, Katniss, that's good enough for me."

I was startled by Gale's sudden outburst, the feebleness in his eyes catching me off-guard as I stared at him with my eyebrows arched. "What—"

"And frankly, I'm sure that he's already fallen in love with you," Gale seethed, the desperation in his eyes becoming increasingly more apparent, "And I know more than anyone how that feels. He'd do anything to keep you safe, and no matter how I feel about it, no matter how stupidly jealous I get..."_  
_

I sucked in a breath, my lips parted as I let Gale's words slowly sink in.

"...It'll all be worth it, because I'll know that you'll be safe." His voice had weakened into a soft murmur, and he stared at me as if he had suddenly aged ten years—his back arched with exhaustion and the shadows under his eyes more visible than I had ever seen them. "It'll all be worth it because...Because I love you, Katniss."

* * *

**By the way, laurus nobilis (or laurel leaves) is an actual plant! The effects of it are definitely exaggerated in this, though. Whoops! **

**UPDATED DEATH LIST:**

**Glimmer - District 1  
Clove - District 2  
Male Tribute - District 3  
Female Tribute - District 3  
Male Tribute - District 4  
Female Tribute - District 4  
Male Tribute - District 5  
Male Tribute - District 6  
Female Tribute - District 6  
Male Tribute - District 7  
Female Tribute - District 7  
Male Tribute - District 8  
Female Tribute - District 8  
Male Tribute - District 9  
Female Tribute - District 9  
Male Tribute - District 10  
Female Tribute - District 10**

**Oh man, looks like only Marvel, Cato, Rue, Thresh, Foxface, Gale, and Katniss are left. INTENSE.**

**Please review!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Thank you all for being so patient and understanding. And awesome. So very, very awesome. **

* * *

_**The Hunger Games **_**belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

"_He who fights with monsters might take care,_

_lest he thereby become a monster._

_And if you gaze for long into an abyss,_

_the abyss gazes also into you."_

—Friedrich Nietzsche

* * *

**Part III: "The Victor"**

* * *

_Because I love you, Katniss._

It felt as if the words had an actual weight against my chest, making my heart swell almost painfully inside of my ribcage to the point where it felt as if it was blocking my airways and rendering me breathless. I was hardly aware of how limp my arms had become at my sides, the skin tingling as if a feather was being brushed lightly against my skin.

My eyebrows crinkled together before I forced myself to blink in an attempt to clear my vision, which only seemed to succeed in sending surges of blood to my skull and making me even more lightheaded than I already was.

"Katniss?"

I felt a tremble trickle down my spine in response to Gale's voice, which had diluted into something barely audible, like a thread drifting through the brisk air. My eyes raised to meet his, only to realize that his features had darkened significantly, as if he had just realized what he had done. I watched as his full eyelashes cast weak shadows across his tinted cheeks in the diminishing sunlight, forming patterns above the stern lines of regret etching the corners of his mouth as he pushed his chapped lips harshly together.

The almost pleading look buried in Gale's irises made him look younger than he really was, temporarily stripping away the hard mask he had plastered over his emotions throughout the years and leaving him looking strikingly vulnerable.

It sent a pang through my torso, making the muscles in my stomach contract as I unconsciously let images of him at his more tender ages surface my mind: When we were both being given the Medal of Valor during the ceremony for our fathers' deaths. How his face had already hardened to stone as he begrudgingly took the medal into his fists and stalked back to his awaiting family, his shoulders slumped with the heavy task of becoming the main provider for his three siblings. When I had stumbled across one of his intricate snares by chance, only to be intrigued by its delicate knots and loops, and how they wound so securely around the limbs of the plump rabbit entangled in it. How Gale had materialized almost soundlessly behind me after that, marking the moment where we had first seen each other as hunting partners. How he had succeeded in sounding both bored and amused as he let his voice reach my ears for the very first time, a dull light shining in his eyes as he disengaged the rabbit and muttered, _"Stealing is punishable by death, or hadn't you heard?"_

Those memories seemed to come from a different lifetime, when our worries had only consisted of hunting enough game and achieving satisfactory marks in school. Never would I have thought that the demanding task of feeding both of our families would bond us so completely. Never would I have thought that I would ever find myself in the arena, fighting for the life of the fourteen-year-old boy I had ran into in the forest when I was twelve. Never would I have thought that that boy, who had once accused me of stealing the rabbit his snare had caught, would ever say something so fervent that it made my knees weak.

_Because I love you, Katniss._

The words rang in my eardrums. I struggled to untangle my vocal cords as I forced my mind to resurface into reality, making it so that my once clouded vision focused on a very exhausted looking Gale in front of me, his features pinched with dread.

He hadn't changed much since I had first seen him in the woods four years ago—his face had become less round and lines of stubble had begun to frame his jawline, but he had already been aged beyond his years when he was fourteen, clearing six feet and looking as much as an adult as I thought possible.

I watched as Gale's chest fell with a sharp exhale before he brought a hand to his forehead and brushed aside the hair that had fallen into his eyes, the movement ordinary but somehow putting me on the very peak of interest as I studied every small movement his fingers made.

His eyes lingered on mine for a moment before the corner of his mouth quirked into a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Are you actually speechless?" he asked dryly, a curt type of humor as sharp as knives in his tone. "The great Katniss Everdeen, defeated by five words."

The words still rang as clear as day in my eardrums: _Because I love you, Katniss. _It was as if he was speaking in a foreign language, and my limbs and mind were having different responses to it. Every surface of my body was tingling, as if his gaze was a real, tangible thing tickling my skin.

It took a moment before I was able to take control of myself again, making my breaths shaky as I forced them through my constrained throat. I swallowed hard, feeling Gale's eyes hold me in place as I let the first words that found their way to my lips drift into the air. "I don't..." My heart writhed in my chest as if it was protesting. "...I don't completely understand what you're saying."

A terrible moment passed where it felt like my entire body had iced over, making me dart my gaze to the dirt, wanting to choke down the sudden overwhelming feeling of disappointment that had washed over me.

It was true, I didn't understand—I didn't understand why my chest was aching and why my heart had swelled to the point where it hurt, I didn't understand why blood had rushed to my cheeks and made them hot to the touch, and I didn't understand why I had to struggle to find words, as if I had lost my own mouth. The feeling of all of it at once was overbearing; usually I could stop things like this with medicine or lying down, but it seemed as if this particular sickness had spread to my very core.

My self-loathing was interrupted by Gale letting out a light chuckle, startling me into looking up, only to find that he had already silently made his way over to where I was standing. He didn't even give me time to register his actions before he flashed me a fleeting smile and allowed his arms to snake around my waist in a way that made blood rush to my head with dizzying speed.

"It's okay," Gale murmured, his tone distant, as if he was speaking more to himself than to me, "It's all right. Just forget that I ever said anything."

A breath caught in my throat, making Gale's eyes softer as he peered studiously at me through the veil of his eyelashes. He almost absently brought a gentle hand to my face before he let his fingers linger, lightly tracing my jaw and the hollows of my cheeks, the faint touches leaving trails of fire against my skin. I shivered, and he must have thought it was in response to the brisk air, because he suddenly drew his hand away from my cheek before binding it around my torso and pulling me closer into his chest.

I heard another deep chuckle sound from Gale's chest before he rested his forehead against my shoulder, making my trembles more consuming as I felt his warm breath scatter across the curve of my neck. "I should've known that you were going to react that way," he muttered under his breath, "You're so stubborn, Catnip." He smiled against my skin. "And that's part of the reason why I absolutely adore you."

The feeling of Gale's hands against me, his fingertips grazing the skin of my lower back and fiddling with the hem of my arena shirt, seemed to make me bob in and out of the surface of reality. The weight that had been previously on my chest seemed to be lifted as a daze took over, making me hardly aware of how my arms had raised themselves to twist around Gale's torso and how I had pressed my cheek against his chest, letting the sound of his heartbeat soothe my nerves.

"You wanted me to forget what you said," I breathed, letting my eyelids droop closed, "...What if I don't want to? What if I want to remember?"

My voice was small, just barely audible over the whistling breeze, but it was enough to make Gale's entire frame go completely rigid. I felt hesitation twinge through his muscles before he slowly loosened his grip around my waist and drew back far enough to lock his eyes on mine, his irises drenched with a mixture of confusion and shock.

He stared down at me with a dumbfounded expression tweaking his features, as if he had just seen something so unbelievable that he was working on convincing himself that he had just imagined it. I couldn't help but let the corners of my mouth curl into a smirk. "Now look who's speechless," I murmured, not exactly knowing where the words were coming from.

With only a speck of delay, a warm grin spread across Gale's face before he brought his hands up from my waist and cupped my cheeks with them. His eyes had softened into two gray clouds and his expression had brightened so much that it seemed as if it was illuminating the space around him, making my ears burst with a sort of fluttering sound, like beating wings.

"Okay, I get it," Gale suddenly said, making me furrow my eyebrows in puzzlement, "I'm dreaming." His voice carried enough certainty to make it seem as if he was citing words from a book.

I did a double take. "Wh—"

"I'm dreaming," Gale repeated, as if it was the most perceptible thing in the world, "Obviously, I'm dreaming." The light breeze tousled his raven hair against the sides of his cheeks and the nape of his neck as he held my gaze, flashes of mischievousness dancing in his irises as the corners of his mouth twitched with an insistent smile.

"What makes you think that?"

Gale's eyes brightened, as if he'd hoped that I would ask. "Well, let's see," he drawled, "I've known you for four years, and you never seem to have the time to think of anything except hunting and taking care of your family. You don't even notice how desirable you are to all the little pipsqueaks back in The Seam. How they would stare as you walked past, and how I would have to teach them all a lesson..." His eyes flashed for a second, as if he was recalling something humorous, before he continued. "...And now you expect me to think that someone as lovely as you is interested in _me?"_

I let out an exasperated sigh before I brought my hand from the small of Gale's back to his forearm and pinched, letting a feeling of satisfaction pulse through me as I watched his eyes widen in surprise.

"Ow," he said, "What was that for?"

"Just so you know that you're not dreaming," I whispered under my breath, and the corners of Gale's mouth perked up.

"Well, it did feel real," he mumbled, before letting his eyes droop into slits playfully, "...I wonder if this will."

With amazing speed, Gale shifted his palm so that his finger was under my chin before he elevated my face toward his and pressed his lips against mine, making my chest flare with heat, like flames dancing wildly in an uncontrolled fire. His touch, usually as gentle as a butterfly landing on a petal, had suddenly grown fierce and demanding, making surprise pulse through me before a feverish heat took its place and proceeded to melt me on the spot.

A layer of dust seemed to be removed from my vision, making me almost unbearably aware of how Gale's arms, swollen with lean biceps that had come with years of hunting, were wound around me, and how his hands were lurking, gliding over my back and down my spine. I might as well have been in a coma for all the control I had over my limbs as I responded with movements just as greedy, my trembling fingers sliding over his pectoral muscles, across the still scabbing wound on his side, and tangling themselves into his silky, disheveled hair.

This sensation, as hot and burning as steam but also as soft as a gentle caress, seemed almost like a drug that my brain needed simply for functioning. Waves of overpowering longing coursed through my limbs in response to Gale's feverish lips brushing against my mouth and down my throat, making it seem as if I was being drowned in a dazed desire.

The moment his lips broke away from me felt like colliding with the ground after falling soundlessly through the air, leaving my breaths tearing wheezily through my chest as my eyes fluttered open.

My racing pulse echoed in my eardrums as I felt the faint rise and fall of Gale's breathing against me, his warm breath scattering across the brim of my cheeks before he almost unconsciously brought his lips close to mine again, as if he could catch them. He lightly kissed the corner of my mouth before he broke out into a smile. "Yeah, that felt real."

I felt light on my toes, as if I had just been injected with an unhealthy amount of morphine, causing all the smothering feelings of anxiety that had been weighing down on my shoulders to burst out of me like a blooming rosebud. I opened my mouth to respond, but was cut off by the sound of something flapping violently in the breeze above us. With puzzlement breaking through my euphoric daze, I raised my eyes toward the sound, only to have my heart sink to the very pit of my stomach.

I never thought that I would ever feel ungrateful for a parachute in the arena.

But there it was, a petite box wrapped carefully in thick white paper dangling from a shimmering silver parachute, gliding through the dimmed night sky and reflecting the moon's glow off its sleek surface.

And the sight of it did nothing but make me sick.

Reluctantly, I drew myself away from Gale before raising my palms toward the sky and watching as the parachute gracefully descended towards me, like an angel falling from the heavens with its glittering wings clipped. The white box landed in my hands before the silver parachute landed on top of it, enveloping both the package and my arms in its glossy material as its edges thrashed in the breeze.

I could do nothing but stare at it, unwillingly letting the memories of what had happened before we were placed in the arena to emerge from the back of my mind, filling my brain like ice water being poured into my skull. Most people would think that it was just a coincidence that our first sponsor gift came right after our first kiss in the arena, but Gale and I knew better.

"Oh!" I heard Rue chime from my side, her melodious voice like a thin ribbon whipping around in a sharp wind. "Looks like your sponsors decided to stop being so quiet. I always thought that you two would be bound to get the most gifts. They're calling you the star-crossed lovers of Panem, you know."

Hesitantly, I gave Rue a sideways glance, feeling my head pound with dawning realization. She seemed to radiate with childlike trust, her features shining with a sprightly grin from across the clearing, only to be dulled by her multiple injuries: the dried blood encrusting the thin gash across her cheek, the scrapes tattering her too big arena clothing, her swollen ankle that had now bruised into a pale purple dotted with shades of red.

A pang pulsed through my chest before I directed my gaze back to the parachute, my lips now tightened into a stern line. I could feel Gale's gaze bore into the top of my head, making me nervously set my chin as I begrudgingly swept the parachute away from the package and let it flow to the dirt like a dried leaf spiraling away from its branch.

"Wow," I heard Gale mumble dryly, making my hands clench the sides of the package as dread began to well up in my chest, "Star-crossed lovers, Catnip. Now I must be dreaming." There was no humor in his voice this time, only a flat tone.

I shot him a pleading glance, only to see that he was already peering down at me through his eyelashes, his eyes thoroughly darkened and hardened into black ice. He looked betrayed, leaving a crushing fact to suddenly emanate in my mind: He probably thought that I was just playing the audience, playing _him,_ in hopes of a few extra gifts.

I suddenly became uncomfortably aware of the cameras around us, as if their lenses had an actual weight against my skin. The entire nation was tuned in, and they had seen everything—the Careers targeting us, Clove cutting off her arm, Marvel betraying his allies, my arrow sinking into Glimmer's flesh, Gale's outburst, our lips clashing together...

And it all resulted in this white package in my palms. The parachute was still attached to it by thin strings while it flapped hopelessly on the ground.

Haymitch must have been completely outraged leading up to this point, spitting out curses at the television screen while ferociously rubbing at the peppery stubble carpeting his chin, letting a gurgling groan ripple through his throat every time I let an opportunity to build up on the star-crossed lover angle pass by. That must be why he was being quiet; he was relying on us to figure things out before he let the sponsor gifts go through.

"Well, open it up," Gale said, his voice still painfully monotone as he gestured toward the package in my hands, "Let's see what all our hard work led to."

I couldn't help but think that the double meaning in Gale's words had grown to be too obvious for the audience to not catch as I tentatively raised my eyes to peer at him, making the corners of his mouth perk into a forced grin that looked completely foreign compared to the extreme tension tautening his eyes. Under his emotionless mask it seemed that he was stricken by the fact that he had forgotten about the angle, and I wanted nothing more than to be able to tell him that he wasn't the only one who had.

With a choking feeling of blundering anxiety plugging up my throat, I raked my palm to the top of the package and ripped it open.

In it was a single roll of hardened, stale bread, its once golden crust dulled into a shade of grayish-tan. The scratches around the inside of the package indicated that it had been a rough trip to my hands, but the bread might as well have been a small stone for all the damage it did to its dried, inedible surface.

My eyebrows crinkled in confusion before I remembered that Haymitch was in charge of the sending of sponsor gifts, and that he must have thought that this was a clever way of both acknowledging that Gale and I had gotten the wheels rolling on our fake relationship again and conveying that, even though it was a start, it wasn't even close to good enough.

I felt my breath catch as anger rose into my throat, clenching my jaw as I imagined Haymitch's ear-piercing laughter at my disapproval radiating through his television screen. _Try harder, sweetheart_, he would have demanded in a gravelly tone, his glassy eyes fixed on mine, _You're not winning any hearts over by giving the boy the cold shoulder._

Gale plucked the bread out of its box, making the dried crust flake against his fingers as he experimentally tossed it in the air. "This would be more useful as a weapon than food," he said flatly, his strained jaw set as if he was fighting to keep his voice steady, "Thank you, Haymitch. Really."

"...You old bag of bones," I added resentfully under my breath, silently hoping that Haymitch caught every word of it as I watched Gale let the roll fall to the dirt with an ominous thump.

I caught sight of Rue's features twisting with utmost confusion at the sight of the bread, and could only imagine what she would have thought of Haymitch if she ever had the chance to meet him.

* * *

"I still think that this is crazy," I mumbled, a pout apparent in my voice as I adjusted my sheath against my spine, noticing how it was considerably lighter than when Gale had first filled it with his handmade arrows. I made a mental note to use the remaining of them with restraint.

Gale glanced at me from over his shoulder, his blank eyes an emotionless slate. He laid his newly washed shirt on the clean side of a boulder dotted with lichen, hoping that it would be dried by morning. "It's for your own good," he explained with an air of finality.

I impatiently pushed a lock of hair behind my ear before slipping my silver bow around my shoulders, careful to ignore the curious tingling in my lips as I met Gale's gaze. "It's crazy," I muttered under my breath, "Careless."

Gale exhaled sharply as I continued with my list of words. "Aw, Catnip," he emitted, raking a strong hand through his disheveled hair before shaking the stray strands out of his eyes, "I'm just thrilled that we're going to find Marvel, the District 1 lapdog who murdered his own district partner and is also doubtlessly in love with my girlfriend. Please don't ruin it for me." His tone was drenched in sarcasm, but it didn't seem to affect Rue, who was sitting in the grass with a blissful expression blanketing her features.

I flinched at the word _girlfriend_, as if it was a knife prodding my ribcage, before shooting Gale a look filled with exasperation. He seemed to have put up a hard mask of indifference since we had been reminded about the angle, leaving me feeling more distant than I ever was with him. "You know why Marvel killed Clove," I muttered under my breath, "I just...I don't think it's worth the risk to go get him."

"I think it's definitely worth the risk," Rue suddenly chimed in, her dark eyes glittering, "He's done so many things for us so far, including saving our lives. Twice. I don't understand why you two don't completely trust him yet." She still had that naive air to her as she set her small chin with disapproval.

Gale shifted his gaze in Rue's direction, his eyes reproachful and shadowed over. "Tell me, Rue, are Capitol dogs who betray just about every one of their allies your usual type, or is it something else about him that attracts you?"

Rue let a wave of shock visibly twinge through her before she darted her gaze to the ground, her hands knotting swiftly in her lap and her head cocking to the side in a way that made her seem like a tiny sparrow hopping fretfully on its talons. "He's nice, is all," she mumbled under her breath, and I could see Gale's shoulders slump slightly with guilt as his once accusing gaze softened.

"Sorry," he mumbled under his breath to no one in particular before turning away, his lips tightened sternly, "We should get going. We need to make it to the Cornucopia before the sun rises so we don't run into Cato."

I arched one of my eyebrows before catching Rue out of the blurred part of my vision, her limbs stiff and her eyes peering at me with an expression that screamed: _What's wrong with him?_

I fixed my jaw and tightened my grip on the handle of my bow, the metallic material of the weapon chilling my fingertips. "What if we do run into Cato? Or some other tribute, for that matter?" My own voice seemed foreign to my ears, how it was slicked with distrust and hesitation. Gale seemed to notice too, because a flash of hurt went across his features, as if my words scalded him like hot water.

"I wouldn't let anything hurt you," Gale murmured in a voice so suddenly soft that I almost jumped with surprise, "You know that." His eyes flickered away, as if he couldn't bear to look at me anymore, before they landed on Rue. With a strained sigh, the corner of his mouth perked into a half-smile. "You too, Rue. What would I do without my little plant doctor?"

Rue's features almost instantly lit up, a shimmering smile taking over the lower half of her face. "Well, for one thing, that nasty mace wound would still be the center of your troubles," she stated wistfully, her eyes narrowing with playfulness, "You can make it up to me, of course, by carrying me. I would walk myself, but..." Her voice drifted into the chilled dusk air before she gestured almost sheepishly to her swollen ankle, the bloated, bruised skin still rendering her leg useless.

Gale's grin grew exasperated before he raised one of his eyebrows into a look filled with equal mischief. "You got it, kid," he said before swiftly making his way over to Rue and lifting her onto his back, her injured ankle dangling inanimately from his grip. Rue shook her raven tresses out of her eyes before fastening her arms around Gale's neck, making it so that she was being held piggyback-style.

As I watched Rue timidly steady herself, an image of Posy, Gale's youngest sibling, wedged itself in my mind—her pale red locks that set her apart from the rest of the Hawthorne family cascading over her shoulders in glossy waves as Gale scooped her petite body into his arms, making her flash a smile that only her brother could conjure.

The possibility of Gale being shipped off to the Games had probably never even crossed Posy's mind before the day he had dashed onto the stage and followed me into the dark.

A lump lodged itself into my throat, making the tendrils of anxiety begin to bind itself around my heart. I silently wondered if Prim approved of what I had done in the arena so far before I turned away and headed toward the thick clusters of tree trunks that led to the Cornucopia, feeling the serrated edges of their leaves rub against my palms as I brushed them away.

"I still have a bad feeling about this," I mumbled under my breath, feeling panic gradually raise into my throat and make it even more difficult to breathe as I stepped into the brush, leaving our clearing behind. No matter how I looked at it, this entire plan of going to find Marvel made us seem like sheep willingly going towards the slaughter.

"Don't worry, Katniss," Rue chirped, her voice the only thing that signified that Gale was walking beside me, his steps almost completely soundless against the forest floor, "Gale said that he'd protect us."

It was only a flash, the change so quick that I could have just imagined it, but the corner of my eye caught Gale's features swiftly contorting with unease before he slid his hard mask of indifference on again, forcing all of his emotions under the surface.

* * *

The night air had grown brisk, conjuring goosebumps on Gale's skin and making it icy to the touch. The thick clouds were blowing swiftly across the moon, blocking out its white light and casting moving shadows across the forest. The treetops shook simultaneously in response to the light breeze, making the leaves rustle an ominous melody as we cautiously made our way through them.

With each step another terrible scenario seemed to fold out in my mind—Cato finding us the moment we step into the Cornucopia, a sword in his hand and his dark eyes blazing with malice. Thresh finding us and seeing Rue's injuries before deciding that Gale and I weren't taking good enough care of her, his fists clenched and his muscles bursting under ebony skin. Marvel suddenly realizing that a Career would never ally with the tributes from District 12, making him whip out another mace, taking care to finish what he started this time around as his once soft blue eyes hardened into ice.

Uneasiness prickled down my spine, like ghostly fingers against my skin. The closer we got to the Cornucopia, the more gore littered the dirt, doubtlessly the aftereffects of the bloodbath. The corpses were long since taken away by the metallic claws of hovercrafts, but the blood left behind by them still stained the tree trunks and foliage, encrusting them with a flaky layer of maroon. Countless knives and daggers stuck out of the dirt, the parts of the lustrous blades that weren't cracking with dried blood reflecting the moonlight with a haunting glint. What looked like scratch marks covered some of the coarse bark of the trees, which only made images of tributes frantically scratching at the trunks in an effort of escaping the awaiting claws of their murderers prod my mind.

I strained my eyes in the dim light, forcing my senses to remain as sharp as needles as I forced my feet to shuffle through the damp dirt and tangled coils of vines covering the ground. The forest sounds made my chest ice over, making my throat constrict as the soft tread of woodland creatures and the faint calls of an owls pierced my eardrums.

As if my mind was trying to add on to my aching anxiety, the blurred part of my vision seemed to constantly catch things that weren't there—the shine of mischievous eyes, the dark fabric of arena clothing fluttering in the breeze, the sharp flash of straggled red hair snaking through the tree trunks...

I brought a palm to my forehead in an effort to soothe my aching skull, only to find that my hand was trembling uncontrollably. This only made my grip on my bow painfully tight as I shoved my free hand into the pocket of my arena jacket, careful to keep my eyes glued in front of me as I felt insistent shudders spread to the very marrow of my bones.

Gale suddenly stopped in his tracks, and I whirled my head around to shoot him a distressed look. His gaze smoothly glided to the side as he surveyed the area around us, his slitted eyes alert and his opaque hair softly brushing against the nape of his neck in response to the night breeze. He inhaled deeply before locking his hardened gaze on mine, and I immediately recognized the crinkled message in his irises: _Someone's here._

Instinctively, my fingers found their way to my sheath before I pulled out a wooden arrow and strung it securely into my bow. Gale gave me a nod of approval, the movement a slight twitch in his neck, before he tightened his grip around Rue's thighs and backed up against a tree to doubtlessly prevent any surprise attacks at her expense. She remained on Gale's back, her tiny hands grasping onto his shoulders and her dark eyes widened into horrified disks.

My breaths proceeded to grow gradually more jagged as I slowly raised my bow in front of me, my fingers stiffly wounded around the bowstring and my eyes wildly darting around the tree trunks that surrounded us in search of what, or _who_, we had ran into.

I swallowed hard, the movement painful because of how contracted the muscles in my throat had become. Now my hunting senses were as sharp as razors, making me aware of every sound and movement around us. With every scuttle of a woodland creature and every flap of a disturbed bird's wing, my heart did a somersault inside of my frigid chest, making my skin knobby to the touch with goosebumps.

The soft sound of boots gliding across the dirt reached my eardrums, making me spin around on my toes and blindly point my arrow at the source. Everything was eerily still except for the swaying of the treetops above me, which only succeeded in making me feel unsteady on my feet. I bit my lower lip, _hard,_ and found the rusty taste of blood tinge the tip of my tongue as I slowly backed myself up against the same tree Gale and Rue had been next to, not daring to beckon anything to sneak up behind me.

I felt a gentle hand grip my shoulder, which almost made me jump out of my skin before I whipped my head around and saw that it was only Gale, his eyes darkening the way they always did when he was confronted with an especially difficult task. "Hold Rue," he whispered under his breath. It was then that I noticed the gleam of his knife in his fist, and I immediately shook my head in disapproval.

"No," I hissed back, "I can handle this."

At this, a sharp shriek of laughter rang from my side, the sound high-pitched and shrill. In one fluid movement, I was already facing where it had come from, my eyes unblinking and my strained hands gripping my bow tightly. I could see no sign of anyone snaking around us, but I could feel the chill of their presence against my skin, like the biting wind of a blizzard.

The laughter faded into demented giggles, drifting in the air and wreathing around the twisted branches of nearby trees. Every so often I caught a sharp flash of crimson at the corner of my eye, but the moment I turned to face it, I was confronted with nothingness.

"Change of plan," Gale abruptly stated from behind me before he grabbed my forearm and pulled me into a sprint behind him. As we rushed through the forest, the trees seemed to grow closer together, making me feel smothered as the toothed edges of their leaves brushed against my cheeks.

The laughter seemed to follow us, not ridiculing like I would expect, but playful and impish—and foxy. I heard Gale curse under his breath before he dug his heels into the dirt and brought us to a sudden stop, his jaw clenched sternly and his eyebrows furrowed with frustration. "We can't lose 'em," he said on a harsh, grating breath.

A wave of scarlet hair jutted out from the side of a boulder, the blazing color making the dried blood smeared across the rock's surface look dull in comparison. Frail fingers ran themselves through the tresses before a slender, wily looking figure emerged from the shadows.

It was a girl, a shock of reddish-orange hair spilling around her shoulders in tangled tendrils and her features consisting of sharp angles and protruding bones, as if she had been extremely underfed for the past few days. She impatiently raked her hands through her snarls of hair, revealing how her fingernails had been chewed down to bloody stubs and how matted pieces of her locks fell out and tangled themselves around her sickly thin fingers. Her nose was pointed and her amber eyes were slanted, making her face look just like a fox's.

It took a moment, since she had looked a lot healthier during the interviews, but I recognized her as the girl from District 5. She shot me a razor smile.

My fingers were trembling as I almost desperately clenched on the handle of my bow, knowing that I had to shoot, but not being able to bring myself to let go of my bowstring. The fox-faced girl peered at my weapon through half-lidded eyes as if she knew that I wasn't a real threat before allowing her smile to stretch across the lower half of her face, making her cheekbones protrude even more through her skin.

She outstretched both of her arms at her sides, her bones sticking out of her skin like fragile twigs as she left her entire torso unprotected, as if she was daring me to shoot. As if she wanted a way out of this arena. As if she welcomed death warmly.

I pulled my bowstring back even further, making it taut as my arrow quivered in its place. I urged my fingers to let go, to send my arrow flying, but I couldn't seem to ignore the insistent voice at the back of my head repeating, _She didn't do anything to you. You would be a murderer._

The fox-faced girl arched both of her eyebrows at me, her amber eyes beaming in the moonlight as she stretched her arms out even further, as if she was growing impatient.

_You would be a murderer._

She clenched her jaw firmly before stepping even closer, to the point where she was mere feet away from the point of my arrow.

_Murderer. Murderer. Murderer._

"Katniss, what are you waiting for?" I heard Rue coo from behind me, and I could imagine her opaque eyes widened with both fear and confusion. I could imagine Gale holding securely onto her, and how he probably already understood exactly why I couldn't do it.

Foxface looked as if she was about to scream with frustration before she was suddenly interrupted by the faint rustling of leaves from our side, accompanied by a gentle voice softly calling, "What's going on here?"

My limbs instantly turned to stone, and my arms began lowering my bow without my permission. I knew that voice.

I gave Foxface one last glance, just in time to see her promptly turning on her heel and racing back into the brush, her crimson hair whipping behind her like blood-colored seaweed flowing in murky water. I watched as she disappeared into the darkness before I craned my neck to look at Rue and Gale, only to see that they were both staring to their sides with slight gawks twisting their features.

Rue was the first to collect herself. Her features instantly brightened, her inky eyes shimmering above a small smile, aglow with relief. "Marvel!"

I felt my stomach knot up at the sound of his name as I swiftly followed her gaze, making my eyes land on a tall, lank figure standing in the brush, his slender fingers resting on the trunk of a nearby tree. His icy blue eyes seemed radiant in the dark, and his arena shirt fell in tatters around his torso, revealing skin so fair that it looked like it illuminated the space around him. He gave Gale a leer before sneering, his bright azure eyes slitted into a half-glare. _Marvel_.

He looked like an angel with his veins apparent through his almost transparently pale skin and his dark hair tousling around in the breeze. "Jeez, Hawthorne," he muttered, a slight edge of annoyance in his tone, "What are you doing, bringing them this close to the Cornucopia? I could hear you through the trees. You're damn lucky Cato is a heavy sleeper."

"Marvel! You found us!" Rue chimed, her features shining with what looked like an unyieldingly girlish sense of glee.

Marvel shifted his gaze up to her before letting his eyes sway down to her swollen ankle, clicking his tongue in dismay. "What happened to you?"

Rue let the corner of her mouth perk into a shy grin. "Twisted my ankle," she murmured, wiggling her leg around.

Marvel took a step toward her as if he meant to examine her injury, but Gale responded with a sharp step backward before shooting him a glare as sharp and venomous as the fangs of a cobra. "She twisted it when she was running away from _you,_" he seethed, his eyes slitting into a glare.

Marvel raised his eyebrows speculatively. "To be fair, I was the one telling them to stop," he stated, his tone growing gradually more vexed, "which Cato was not that happy about." He gestured almost exasperatedly to his torso, where his black arena shirt fell in shreds around his chest. It left the skin bare there, revealing how it was wrapped neatly with bandages so fair that they almost completely blended in with his chest. The center of it had grown dark, indicating that blood had began to seep into the fabric. Framing his collarbone was a smaller bandage, reminding me of his older wound, the one I had given him. "He almost sliced me in half. Always knew he was nuts."

I unknowingly sucked in a sharp breath, making Marvel smirk in my direction. "Aw, are you worried about me?" he crooned.

Gale let out a quiet snarl before narrowing his already piercing gaze. "Don't talk to her," he muttered through clenched teeth.

Marvel looked almost bored as he raked his gaze back over to Gale. "I see that we still have some hard feelings," he said, his already icy irises hardening, "Sorry about almost killing you with that mace. You just made it too easy."

Gale's features instantly shadowed over into a smoldering scowl, making Rue give him a look filled with a mixture of fright and curiosity.

Marvel let his crinkled gaze linger on Gale for a moment before he exhaled sharply and ran his slender fingers through his hair, making the moonlight reflect off his dark tresses. _"Anyway, _like I said, Cato isn't too happy with me," he drawled, unconsciously letting his palm brush over his wounded chest, "So I'd rather not have to go through the whole, 'The District 12's escaped before I could hurt them!' thing again. Can we make this quick?" His brilliant blue eyes swayed to the side, if he was surveying the area. "Why are you all here?"

"We wanted to find you," Rue cooed, her lips curving into a warm smile, "We wanted to make you our ally."

Gale visibly tensed at Rue's words, but he stayed silent.

"Really?" Marvel droned, raising his eyebrows in pleasant surprise. "Well, it must be my lucky day."

"Don't make me regret this, 1," Gale muttered, his voice still tainted with malice.

Almost invisibly fast, Marvel's mild expression soon became drenched with mischief. "Oh, don't worry," he started, stringing out his words and letting his eyes wander over to me in a way that made Gale stiffen, "Your girlfriend will be in good hands, 12."

* * *

It was hard to breathe.

Air had begun to wheeze through my chest and my limbs were stiff with fatigue.

Slowly, I crouched beside a riverbank and dipped my hands into its cool surface, feeling the water soak into my skin and chill my bones. The sharp frostiness of it succeeded in sending a tremble up my arms, causing me to cup some of the liquid into my shaking palms and splash it onto my face in hopes that the moisture would help keep me awake. I rubbed my eyes, only to feel that the skin around them had become loose, doubtlessly because of lack of sleep.

I forced a few more icy breaths into my lungs before raising my face to the treetops, my eyes stinging in response to the first rays of morning sunshine beaming across the sky. Clouds were still staining the otherwise clear dark blue expanse, swirling around the fading moon like thick streaks of smoke.

The sharp, swift tweets of birds awakening from their individual slumbers circled the clearing we had settled in, piercing my eardrums and reverberating off the inside of my skull as I begrudgingly got to my feet and turned my back towards the river, feeling the soreness in my wearied muscles pulse throughout my body.

Fingers began to softly linger against the curve of my neck, brushing against my skin in a way that made the chills surging throughout my body more intense. I shifted my gaze to the side, only to see Gale peering down at me thoughtfully. The corner of his mouth quirked as our eyes locked, and he let his fingers lightly trail themselves up my neck and below my eyes, outlining my dark circles with slight curiosity.

"You're tired," he noted, bringing his hand back to his side and furrowing his eyebrows with worry.

I opened my mouth to respond, only to be abruptly cut off by Marvel letting out a scoff from across the clearing. "Well, obviously," he lilted, "Looks like she's hungry, too. When was the last time you fed her, Hawthorne?"

Gale visibly stiffened before he shot Marvel a glare as sharp as needles.

"I mean, really. I can see poor Katniss' ribs through her shirt," Marvel continued, letting his lips tighten with mock concern. He was sitting in the grass, his fair hands busy with the task of wrapping Rue's injured ankle tightly with a roll of bandages he had taken from the Cornucopia before rushing away with us. There was a slight tinge of red apparent on Rue's ebony cheeks as his fingers slid over the bare skin of her leg.

"I'm fine," I muttered dryly, but the mention of food instantly made the gnawing emptiness in my stomach more apparent. I longingly thought of the crackers we had stored away in the bright orange backpack, feeling the muscles in my torso twist with desire.

Because Gale somehow knew what I thought at all times, he detected my lie with utmost ease and set his jaw with apprehension before smoothly slipping a knife out of his belt. "I'll be back soon," he muttered, "after I catch something."

My chest heaved in exasperation. "You don't have t—"

"It's okay, Catnip. I want to," Gale insisted with a slight smile before turning away and walking into the brush, his feet swift and silent as they carried him away from the clearing.

I stood stiffly for a moment, staring after Gale with words to call him back hanging on the very tip of my tongue, but I couldn't seem to be able to choke them through my strained throat. With a stifled groan, I impatiently raked a couple strands of hair behind my ear before turning away from the foliage Gale had disappeared into, only to see Marvel peering at me with a look of disapproval cemented to his pale features.

"Does he always call you that? Catnip?" he asked before crinkling his eyebrows together, the movement making tufts of his opaque hair twitch in front of his forehead, "Kind of childish, don't you think?"

My lips tightened as I set my jaw, the mention of Gale's nickname for me rousing memories of our first encounter with each other in the woods without my permission—how he had misheard my actual name while detaching the rabbit his snare had snagged and insisted on making the title stick no matter how many times I protested, and how it somehow became endearing over the years. _"Stealing is punishable by death, or hadn't you heard?"_

"I'm going with him," I announced with an air of finality, seizing my silver bow from the dirt and slipping my sheath over my torso.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Marvel stammered, getting to his feet and turning away from Rue, "Why so hasty? I'm very good company, or so I've heard."

"It's not a matter of who's better company," I muttered, my voice suddenly cutting, "Gale is my hunting partner. That's it." I tightened my lips into a strained line and squared my shoulders in an attempt to ignore how the corner of my eye caught a pang of hurt contorting Marvel's expression. With only a slight tinge of hesitation, I turned away and stalked towards the edge of the clearing before I was tempted to apologize for my acidic words.

"Katniss, wait."

Reluctantly, I stopped in my tracks and looked back at Marvel with exasperation lining my features, only to see that his once cheerful eyes had darkened with severity. My eyebrows arched with surprise, and I felt my lips part with silent puzzlement as he insistently locked his azure gaze on mine.

He tightened his lips sternly before letting his chest fall with a sharp exhale. "Do you love him? Gale, I mean?"

I did a double take, my eyes widening into quizzical disks as my heart leapt into my throat. The bridge of my nose crinkled as I struggled to recover, knowing that the audience would definitely expect my answer to be quick and sure, but knowing that my vocal cords wouldn't want to cooperate. "I-I, ah..."

Marvel let his mouth curl into a smirk that didn't quite reach his icy eyes. "You do, don't you?"

Rue stared at him with her inky eyes dulled with what looked like a twinge of hurt, and it only succeeded in making me feel even more uncomfortable than I already was as I quietly stuttered to myself, my once determined stance quickly weakening with distress as I fussed over Marvel's simple question.

He pursed his lips before bringing a pale hand up to his dark hair, letting his fingers tangle themselves into his locks as he continued to hold my gaze pressingly. "Let me tell you a story," he murmured, his soft voice drifting through the air like a dreary melody and making me look up with a new air of confusion.

"...When I first saw you during the televised reapings, I thought you were just a stupid little girl," Marvel started in a weak tone, his chilling eyes locked on mine. The bandages wrapped around his chest had grown into a pale red from his wound, like blood-colored clouds. "I saw you volunteer, and it made me sick_._ It reminded me of all the other Careers, how they were so eager to get themselves into the arena, to end the lives of other human beings as if it was some sort of sport." He had to pause to collect himself, his features pinched with hatred as he recalled the behavior of his past allies.

It only took a moment before Marvel's features smoothed out again, his white face like a blank slate free of emotions. "But then...Then I found out about your little sister." His voice softened tremendously, making a curious stitch of pain surge through my chest. "You were willing to give up your own life for hers, and that was...beautiful to me. _You're_ beautiful to me."

I caught Rue from the blurred part of my vision suddenly bring her petite hands to her heart, as if she was trying to soothe it as she continued to stare up at Marvel with a pleading look of pain buried in her dark irises.

Marvel stepped toward me, as if he unconsciously felt the need to get closer. "I found myself always looking at you in the Training Center. You always looked bored, like you never allowed yourself to truly do anything up to your full ability. It was...funny." He let his mouth curl into a grin before stepping even closer. My feet felt as if they were nailed to the ground, making me stare unblinkingly at him as he raised a gentle palm and placed it lightly against my cheek. "When I saw your training score, I knew that I should have been enraged. An eleven? From a District 12 tribute? That's ridiculous. Glimmer certainly had no trouble hiding her anger. She nearly tore up the room, screaming her lungs out and lashing out at our mentors. But I was impressed. Happy, even. I was _happy_ for you."

I couldn't seem to be able to tear my gaze away from Marvel. My silver bow was heavy in my hand, but I felt the desire to rush into the trees and hunt with Gale gradually slip away.

Marvel's grin widened, but his eyes seemed distant, as if he was busy recalling something fond to him. "Cato and Clove were furious, of course_._ It was almost funny how they became freakishly obsessive with District 12 after that, always talking about different ways they would kill you. It was pathetic, and it took a lot of self control to not slap them both whenever I had to sit through their little tantrums."

Abruptly, Marvel's expression shadowed over, making him look almost like a fallen angel. "The interviews...That was when I began to hate Gale Hawthorne. You, of course, were absolutely lovely, not even bothering with any of the angles the other tributes had. Everyone was in awe because you were _you_. It didn't hurt that you looked striking, as well." He flashed me a fleeting grin, as if it was reflexive, before it instantly drowned with malice. "And then _Hawthorne_ had the audacity to _kiss_ you, right there on the stage..." He swallowed hard, and I watched as his Adam's apple slowly slid down the smooth skin of his throat. "...That was also when I knew that I was losing it. I was jealous of someone from District 12. _District 12._ I'm a _Career,_ I shouldn't have even bothered to _look_ at someone from District 12."

I sucked in a sharp breath, and the sound seemed to click Marvel back into reality, because his eyes suddenly snapped right back onto mine before he let an almost smug smile tug at the corners of his lips. "But I did. You had me wrapped around your finger the moment I saw you, Katniss. And it tore me up inside. I fell in love with a District 12 tribute, of all people. It wasn't until we actually went into the arena that I decided I didn't _care_ anymore. I realized that I could protect whoever I wanted to protect, and that was you. _You._ No one but _you._"

I noticed Rue swiftly drop her gaze to the ground from the corner of my eye, as if she wished to block out whatever was happening in front of her. I saw a gleam suddenly appear on her cheek, only to be wiped away by one of her trembling hands, and I conceived with crushing realization that it was a—_tear._

"No," I blurted out, taking a rough step backward and away from Marvel, "No, I can't."

He peered at me for a moment with nothing but surprise twisting his features, but he collected himself speedily before dropping the palm that had once been resting on my cheek limply back to his side. "I should have known from the start that I would end up loving you, and that you would never be able to love me back," he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

I continued to stumble backward, giving Rue frantic glances as I did so. She stared wide-eyed back at me, as if she couldn't believe what I was doing. "I need to go," I said curtly before turning on my heel, only to have the beckoning sound of Marvel's voice calling me back make my feet almost instinctively come to a halt. I cursed myself as I begrudgingly craned my neck to face him again.

"So, you wouldn't give someone like me a chance, right?" Marvel lilted, his eyes half-lidded as if he already knew the answer without me saying it. A halfhearted grin plastered itself on the lower half of his face before he continued. "After all, I'm just a lapdog."

I pushed my lips sternly together before silently shaking my head, my feet already carrying me towards the brush. This time, I didn't give myself a chance to be stalled before I broke into the foliage, a rabid feeling of dread pulsing through my veins and a wild need to be back with Gale twisting in my chest.

* * *

"I really missed this."

Gale looked up at me with the corners of his mouth upturned into a grin and his ashen eyes soft, like pale storm clouds streaking the sky. He already had three rabbits hooked onto his belt, their limp bodies brushing against his sides and their fur matted with blood. Twisting between his fingers was a thin piece of wire, the expanse of it coiled with knots and loops, and already looking too complicated to be made by human hands; I had forgotten the last time I saw him make a snare, and the curious beauty of it made a swelling feeling lodge itself in my chest.

"Me too," he murmured warmly, "partner."

I couldn't help but smile. "You didn't think that I would let you take _all_ the credit for getting food, did you?"

Gale did a final knot in the wire before straightening himself up and letting his brightened eyes lock on mine. "Of course not," he said with a chuckle rattling his voice, "In fact, I was wondering why it took you so long to join me."

The memories of what had happened in the clearing hit me like a punch to the stomach, and I had to dart my gaze toward the dirt in an attempt to shake it off. Gale responded with a puzzled glance, but must have decided to not question it because he instead busied himself by promptly turning around attaching his snare onto a thin branch.

"We don't want to catch too much. It would spoil before we could eat it," I mumbled, eager to change the subject. "...And I'm a little worried about leaving Marvel alone with Rue."

"Say no more," Gale responded, a playful grin playing on his lips, "Poor Rue shouldn't have to suffer being with him any longer."

I inhaled sharply, which probably wasn't the reaction Gale was expecting, because he swayed his eyes over to me with his features pinched with concern. "What's wr—"

Before Gale could finish, a tremulous scream pierced the air, the sound drenched with griping agony as it ricocheted off the treetops and echoed in my skull, shrill but somehow still succeeding in sounding like a dismal tune.

It only took a moment, but that moment was so cutting that it felt like a knife tearing itself through my chest, making my vision dot with dark blotches and my head fill with a dizzying amount of blood.

The scream sounded like a chirp, almost _birdlike—_and it was only to be expected when the beating of wings suddenly sounded from all around, as if the birds perched up in the trees had responded similarly to me. They let out salient caws that cleaved my eardrums like hammers as they scattered into the morning sky, and before I knew it, I was rushing off with my feet slapping the dirt just as frantically as their wings were striking the air.

My legs carried me forward, but my mind seemed to be lost somewhere else. All I knew was that I needed to get back to the clearing, _fast._

I was only slightly aware of Gale calling for me from behind, his voice slicked with a frenzied panic, but I didn't even think of pausing as I dazedly dashed through the brush, leaves swatting my cheeks like unyielding palms. The scream continued to repeat in my eardrums, how it was soaked with tears and confusion, and how it was enough to make my insides twist until I felt nauseous.

My eyes stung as twigs continued to whip themselves against my face, the sharp pain not nearly enough to distract me from getting where I needed to be. Everything seemed to go in slow motion, nothing was _fast_ enough. I couldn't get there _fast_ enough...

When I finally broke through the leaves with my legs almost drunkenly stepping onto the grass-lined dirt of the clearing, my head had cleared up so suddenly that I felt like crumpling over and retching onto the ground.

But that was nothing compared to the harrowing, excruciating feeling of pain that had hit me like a slap to the face after my vision had focused and filled with red—nothing but _red_—rendering me breathless, as if claws had tangled themselves into my hair and pushed me under a never-ending expanse of icy, black water.

The first thing I saw were Rue's eyes, so wide that they looked strange compared to the rest of her petite face and so raw with tears that it was a wonder why she was able to see at all. They were shining like glossy obsidian underneath her mess of raven hair, the locks matted at her sides as she writhed in the grass. Both of her hands were clasped against her chest, blood dribbling through her fingers and the handle of a knife protruding through the space between them, the blade lodged in her and making her look like a bird whose wings had just been hacked away.

She locked those big eyes on mine before her mouth started quivering, her lips parting just enough for blood to spurt through them and onto the dirt, leaving her gagging as the red liquid mixed with the salt of her tears.

Above her was someone so pale and radiant that he somehow still looked like an angel, even when his skin was stained red with blood that was not his own. His blue eyes were widened and unblinking, staring at Rue with horror that looked completely foreign compared to his hands, still clenched around the knife handle obtruding through her chest.

My entire being felt like ice as the person looming over Rue let his deep blue eyes wash over me, freezing me to my very core. "Katniss. I really didn't want you to see this."

How could that voice still sound so melodic, so mesmerizingly sweet, when it was coming from the person stained with Rue's blood? My knees felt weak, and I was only slightly aware of how my breaths were wheezing loudly through my chest and how rabid hatred was quickly replacing my panic.

"_Marvel_," I hissed, startled to hear my voice tearing through my constrained throat, "How _could _you? She was only twelve! She_ trusted_ you!"

Marvel straightened himself up, and I would have expected wings to burst out of his back if it weren't for the look of crushing guilt plastered to his features. "If you don't fight, you're just waiting to be killed," he muttered, his words so robotic that it sounded as if he had rehearsed them in his head thousands of times, "I did this for you, Katniss."

"For _me?!_" I didn't recognize my own voice as it thundered through my lips, how it was thick with tears and malice, "How could this _possibly _be something that would benefit me?!"

"Were you really going to let her live?" Marvel lilted, his eyes calm as they held me in place. "If it came down to her or your precious Gale Hawthorne, who would you choose?"

Whimpers were slashing through my throat before I could stop them, filling the thick silence Marvel's question left. Rue stared up at me with her body still twitching with life, her opaque eyes dulled and drenched with stinging tears. She knew the answer without me even saying it, and I could see how it sent a pang of squealing affliction through her frigid, delicate features.

"Exactly," Marvel breathed, the single word barely audible as he watched me spiral in front of him, "I did you a favor. Remember how I said I wanted to protect you? _Only _you?"

The sound of leaves bursting open pierced my ears like needles, and Gale was standing beside me with his entire body completely rigid. It only took a moment for him to register what had happened, and when he did, he was already racing toward Marvel with his knife clasped in his fist.

But it was already too late.

I didn't even have to think before I strung an arrow into my bow and launched it at Marvel's heart.

It soundlessly sank into his flesh with a sort of forlorn grace, piercing through the whiteness of his skin and sending blood seeping through the bandages already wrapped around his torso. His hands flew around the shaft of the arrow before he shot me a look of hopelessness and—_relief_, as if he expected it, before collapsing to the ground.

Gale halted in his tracks and whipped his head around to give me a startled stare with unblinking eyes, and I knew it was because for the first time in years, he hadn't been able to predict my actions.

I tore my gaze away from him before making it land on Rue, only to see that she was still trembling on the dirt, blood dribbling down the corner of her mouth and her fingers helplessly grasping at the thin grass around her.

My legs numbly carried me over to her side, and as I was passing Marvel, I felt his brilliant blue eyes follow me in my tracks.

I dismissed it as paranoia, only to have his hypnotic voice escape through his lips and make my limbs turn to stone. It was a groan, the sound muffled and gurgling as if he was struggling to hold on to his last seconds of life.

I turned on my heel to face Marvel, and he gazed at me with eyes so tender that it made the muscles in my stomach twist before he choked, "You would think that I would stop loving you after you killed me."

And then his eyes clouded, almost instantly, retracting the brilliance from them and leaving them a dull, dead blue.

He laid lifeless in the dirt, like an angel with its wings clipped.

* * *

**UPDATED DEATH LIST:**

**Marvel - District 1  
Glimmer - District 1  
Clove - District 2  
Male Tribute - District 3  
Female Tribute - District 3  
Male Tribute - District 4  
Female Tribute - District 4  
Male Tribute - District 5  
Male Tribute - District 6  
Female Tribute - District 6  
Male Tribute - District 7  
Female Tribute - District 7  
Male Tribute - District 8  
Female Tribute - District 8  
Male Tribute - District 9  
Female Tribute - District 9  
Male Tribute - District 10  
Female Tribute - District 10  
Rue - District 11**

**Farewell Marvel and Rue, we knew ye well.**

**I recommend reading one of my other fics, Only You, to gain more perspective on what happened in this chapter. It's Two Fires told from the perspective of Marvel up 'til this point.**

**Thanks for everything!**


	19. Chapter 19

**I love you all, and thanks so much for putting up with me.**

* * *

_**The Hunger Games **_**belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

_"And there's no guarantee_

_that this will be easy._

_It's not a miracle you need, believe me._

_Yeah, I'm no angel, I'm just me,_

_but I will love you endlessly."_

—The Cab, "Endlessly"

* * *

The presence of death seemed to chill the air, as if the life that had been drained from Marvel had become part of the light breeze and had fluttered its way across my skin, leaving trails of goosebumps in its path. The certainty I felt when I sent my arrow whirling toward his heart had completely vanished, leaving me standing numbly next to his corpse and eyeing his once brilliant features—his glossy hair, his gentle fingers, his azure eyes, now as pallid and ghastly as Clove's sickly flesh had been—with a strange feeling of guilt knotting itself up in the pit of my stomach. Tufts of hair as black as onyx brushed against Marvel's fair forehead, and I couldn't help but feel a lump wedge itself in my throat as I watched his lifeless eyes stare unblinkingly at the swaying treetops above us.

He had probably already been dead to his entire district the minute he switched sides and betrayed the Careers, and the rest of the audience, District 12 in particular, were never known to shed a single tear for the Capitol's lapdogs in the games. Marvel was completely alone and mourned by no one as he laid inanimately in the dirt, the blood from the wound in his chest still dribbling down his torso and staining what was left of his tattered arena clothing.

My eyes were stinging and my legs were stiff as I stood motionlessly above Marvel, darting my gaze away the moment I realized that my vision was blurring with tears. The soft, tremulous sounds of Rue whimpering behind me made it so that the lump in my throat enlarged itself to the point where it was a struggle to even breathe.

I let myself unbuckle for one moment, let the tears welling in my eyes loose, gliding down my cheeks and leaving warm, salty streaks in their paths before I promptly wiped them away with a stern fist and forced my feet to move in Rue's direction.

As I crouched down at Rue's side and watched her horrified eyes fix themselves on mine, my entire being felt so flimsy and fragile that it felt like the slightest touch would shatter me. A shaky breath tore its way through my throat before I let my gaze slowly drift toward her wound. The knife handle protruding from her ribcage rose and fell with each of her shallow breaths.

I willed my tears back, clenching my jaw and biting the tip of my tongue so roughly that the metallic taste of blood slicked its way across my taste buds. "Rue..." I croaked, ashamed of how weak my voice was. I crinkled my eyebrows tightly together before feeling Rue's clammy palm slide over the back of my hand in a feeble attempt to grab it, making my eyes obediently lock on hers before she tightened her lips into a—_smile._

"Don't be sad, Katniss," she murmured, her voice just like the dreary melody of a bird trapped in the metal bars of a cage, "It isn't a good look for you." Her grin was obviously forced, and her teeth were red with the blood that had been previously filling her mouth. She looked so blanched and frail that if it weren't for her wandering eyes and trembling limbs, I would have thought that the life had long since left her body.

Rue slid her unsteady palm over my hand again, and I gripped it between my fingers without even thinking, not daring to tear my eyes away from her once glowing face as it gradually paled. Her lower lip was quivering and the whites of her eyes were raw with tears, but she was still grinning weakly through all of it, as if she wanted to comfort _me_ as she laid crumpled in dirt that was moist with her own blood.

"I need you to promise me something," Rue breathed, her voice soft. Her features pinched with pain before she turned her head to the side and coughed, the sound trilling and crackling, like high-pitched static.

"Anything," I whispered, and I felt my cheeks dampen as tears that refused to be held back rolled down my cheeks in hot, wet lines.

Rue took a deep breath, the knife handle bulging out of her chest eerily rising as she did so. "You need to win," she stressed, her eyes narrowing into slits as she attempted to blink away her remaining tears, "Katniss, you _need_ to win."

I felt my throat tighten as Rue's words hung in the air, threatening to render me completely breathless as I stared into her expectant, inky eyes. _No. Anything but that._

Almost on cue, Gale's booted feet planted themselves beside me before he crouched down next to Rue, his eyes wild and both of his hands clinging onto the single roll of bandages Marvel had brought back from the Cornucopia. "Stop talking like that, Rue. You're going to be fine," he said, his voice tight.

I felt the muscles in my stomach twist as I watched Gale's eyes dart from the bandages in his hands to the knife in Rue's chest with an almost pitifully lost look contorting his features.

"Where do I start? Do I take the knife out?" Gale quaked, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady as he hesitantly reached for the blade in Rue's chest. "How do I _fix_ this? Rue, there has to be some kind of plant..."

Rue gave him a small, sad smile.

Gale looked as frenzied as I had ever seen him as he hissed out a chain of curses and stubbornly darted his gaze around the clearing, as if a miracle plant would jump out at him if he looked hard enough. "God _dammit_, Rue, I'm not letting you die!"

With a shaky breath, I placed my free hand on Gale's forearm, and his frantic eyes landed on me without forewarn. I set my jaw before slowly shaking my head, the movement only a slight twitch in my neck, but he seemed to understand the message I was giving him completely. His shoulders slumped and his eyes dulled, making him look like he was deflating as he falteringly directed his attention back to Rue, who looked almost completely drained of blood as she laid trembling in the dirt.

Gale stayed silent as I slid my hand away from his forearm and placed it under Rue's head, feeling her thick tresses between my fingers as I carefully positioned her onto my lap. I had trouble looking her in the eye as she grasped at my arena clothing, nuzzling the side of her face into my torso and cringing once she felt the knife in her chest shift.

She let her eyes droop closed, the breeze quickly growing stronger and sending her wave of opaque hair spilling over my lap and onto the ground. "Don't stop talking. Please," she emitted, her lips parted and her voice like a distant echo blanketing my eardrums, "It's too quiet."

My throat churned with words I couldn't bring myself to say. I let out a garbled whisper, sounding more like a groan of distant pain than anything else.

Rue succeeded to look almost sheepish as she tightened her grip on the sleeves of my jacket. "Or you could...sing?" She clamped her lips together, swallowing against the blood spilling out of her small mouth. "My mother always sang me to sleep. No matter how hungry she was, or how tired she was from working on the plantations..." She opened her eyes until they were half-lidded and let her pleading gaze wash over me, making a shiver trickle its way down my spine. "Please, if it's not too much to ask."

Without my permission, my palm had traveled to the side of Rue's face, framing her round cheek and feeling both her deathly iciness and her scraped skin—rough, chapped. Her eyelids slowly closed in a way that reminded me of a withering flower as I let the pads of my fingers trail over her features, softly brushing over the multiple scrapes and gashes covering her skin.

The words were flowing out of my quivering lips before I even had time to think of them, and I only noticed that tears were dripping from my moistened eyelashes only after they had landed on Rue's pallid skin.

_"Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
__Take these broken wings and learn to fly  
__All your life  
__You were only waiting for this moment to arise"_

The wind picked up, making my braid whip over my shoulder and the loose fabric of my arena clothing flutter in front of me. The leaves rustled an accompanying melody to my song, almost drowning out my weak voice as the foliage swayed around us.

_Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
Take these sunken eyes and learn to see  
All your life  
You were only waiting for this moment to be free"_

The chill of a sudden raindrop gliding down my cheek sent a surge of consuming trembles through my limbs, and it was almost eery when the corner of my eye caught the glint of several other shining drops of rain as they tumbled from the sky, slapping the ground and adding onto the swishing leaves' tumultuous tune.

_"Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly  
Into the light of the dark, black night"_

There was a hitch in my breath as I felt Rue's hands, once desperately clinging onto my sleeves, growing gradually more limp. The rain landed on her face unyieldingly and smudged the gluey streaks of blood that had congealed around her mouth, making streams of water laced with red drip onto my lap.

_"Blackbird fly, Blackbird fly  
Into the light of the dark, black night"_

Rue's eyelashes were wet with a mixture of rain and tears, forming them into the points of stars. Strands of raven hair stuck to the sides of her face, and I brushed them away, trying desperately to calm my shaking fingers as they grazed her sallow skin.

_"Blackbird singing in the dead of night  
Take these broken wings and learn to fly  
All your life  
You were only waiting for this moment to arise"_

I braced myself to choke out the last few lines, my voice uneven as I felt Rue's frame become slack and pliant in my lap. Her hands fell from my sleeves to her sides, her fingers curling in on themselves as if they could take shelter from the rainfall. My ears buzzed as Rue's chest fell shallowly, as if she was deflating, and I found myself staring, numb and open-mouthed, the lyrics trapped in the tangled muscles of my throat. Diluted blood trickled from her knife wound, staining her skin and clouding the rainwater collecting on top of her.

I rasped, all melodic traces in my voice gone and left with throaty coughs. Before I could stop them, sobs tore through my throat and tears blended in with the raindrops flitting down my cheeks, making me place a shameful hand to my raw eyes in an attempt to hide them from the rest of the world. I could feel the cameras zooming in, filming me at my most fragile and showing it in terrible detail across the country.

I must have looked painfully weak, the way I crinkled in on myself and leaned into Gale's sturdy frame while he patiently stroked my already drenched hair. The way he brought his lips to my ear and whispered sweet nothings to calm me down, his breath the only warm thing my body felt as the bitter wind bit at my bare skin. The way he had to help me get to my feet after I had gingerly slipped Rue off my lap and onto the dirt, now moistening into mud and blending in with the red of her blood.

I almost expected Rue to spring up from the mud as I stared numbly at her inanimate body, her injuries magically gone and her youthful, lively glow restored. Instead, she laid there completely lifeless, the rain soaking her to the bone and the knife handle still sticking out of her ribcage, now motionless from the lack of air flowing into her lungs.

If Gale and I left her right then, like we were expected to, the cannons would go off and the hovercrafts would come to retrieve both her and Marvel's corpses. Their bodies would dangle from the hovercrafts' cold metal claws before being tossed unceremoniously into plain wooden coffins with their tops nailed shut, like they were mere packages being shipped back to their districts.

A sob caught in my throat, and my legs refused to hold my body upright as relentless winds slashed at my body. My boots acted like suction cups in the mud, making it difficult to put one foot in front of the other as Gale carefully tried to pull me away.

"We can't leave them," I suddenly choked out, my mouth thick with tears, "We can't...They'll get taken away, like everyone else—"

"The damn Gamemakers are giving us a storm. We'll die if we stay out here," Gale stated softly, an imploring note in his tone. I saw his features pinch with malice once he realized that I was concerned with Marvel's fate, but he hid it well as he impatiently jerked his head to the side to flip his dripping hair out of his eyes.

"But...!" My entire being iced over as I directed my gaze back to Rue's body. It was already sinking into the drenched earth, her hair matted at her sides and the loose bits of her arena clothing flowing in the diluted parts of the mud like murky seaweed. "We'll let them _win_ if we leave!" I grieved, knowing in the back of my mind that it was a bad idea to talk so freely about them when we were doubtlessly being watched by millions. "Rue deserves better than this!"

I heard Gale let out a strained groan before he placed his palm against my cheek and turned my head so that I was facing him. "I _know._ This is already hard enough for me to do," he pleaded, his eyes darkened, "You have no idea how much I want to stay here. It would annoy the hell out of the Gamemakers if they couldn't pick up their bodies, but I need to think of _you _first." His chest was hitching up and down as if he had just gotten back from doing laps around the clearing, and his features were etched with lines of severe tension. "I am not losing you too, Katniss."

For a couple moments, the howling wind and the clamorous treetops were the only things filling my eardrums as I stared wide-eyed up at Gale, sheets of rain pouring down on both of us. I could feel it chill me to the bone, my arena clothing doing nothing but weighing me down as it soaked up the rain and hung floppily off my limbs. "We have to do something," I insisted, my voice trembling, "so they'll know we're not just a piece in their games."

Gale tightened his lips exasperatedly, as if my stubbornness would have been endearing under other circumstances. "What do you have in mind?"

I furrowed my eyebrows together before craning my neck to scan the clearing, my eyes squinting through the rainfall. The tree trunks were darkened with water, their branches swaying dismally in the wind and their foliage thrashing violently against itself. Raindrops slid off the smooth surfaces of the leaves before falling to the earth, where mud was slowly drowning what was once thin lines of grass adorning the dirt.

Just a few steps away from the border of the clearing, contrasting against the many shades of green and brown the woods consisted of, were a bank of wildflowers. Their blossoms were tinted with warm colors—red, orange, yellow—and it was disheartening to see them wilting as layers of rain pounded them downwards like merciless fists.

I glanced back at Gale long enough to gesture toward the wildflowers before I turned on my heel and trudged against the ruthless rain.

I gritted my teeth against the biting iciness of the wind, feeling strands of my drenched hair whip wildly around me before periodically slapping against my shoulders. Gale seemed to instantly understand what I was planning, and kept one of his strong arms wrapped around my shoulders to keep my knees from completely buckling. I gave the sky a swift glance, only to see that the thin gray clouds from earlier were now bloated and inflamed, covering the entire expanse of the sky as they let loose their seemingly endless supply of rain.

"Those are probably weeds," Gale noted, refusing to take his arm away from me even when I was crouching next to the flowers and plucking up an armful. They were dripping and languid, raindrops collecting in their centers and weighing down their petals.

"They're good enough," I grunted, and Gale responded with a half-shrug before he bent down and swiftly tore a handful of them from the dirt.

We made our way back to the clearing, our boots sloshing through the mud and swampy rainwater as it quickly rose above our ankles. The thought of the Gamemakers drowning us with this storm prodded my mind, but it was quickly forgotten once Rue's body came back into view.

Her nose was bobbing in and out of the water, and her knotted tresses of inky hair framed her head like a dark spiderweb. Even though I knew she was past the point of being harmed, I still found myself rushing to her side before she was completely submerged.

My eyes stung at the sight of Rue's knife wound, causing more tears to threaten to come to the surface. I forced them back, digging my teeth into my lower lip as I gingerly slid my free arm under Rue's body and swiftly shifted her onto elevated ground, making her once immersed hair slick back across her scalp. Hoping that the wind wouldn't blow the flowers away, I tied their flimsy stems together and made a sloppy crown, the petals still vibrant through the smudges of mud my fingers left on their surfaces. I slipped it onto Rue's petite head, taking care to fasten it securely around her temples. I used the remaining of the flowers on the knife handle protruding from her chest, covering the diluted blood and the torn flesh and leaving it looking like a dreary bouquet.

Even with the blossoms slightly wilted as they writhed in the pounding rain, they still sent a message. The cameras would need to film Rue before the hovercraft took her away, wildflowers and all, and it would let everyone watching know that whatever obstacle the Capitol threw at us, whether it be a storm or an entire arena, there was always a part of every tribute they couldn't own.

I turned away from Rue, only to see Gale standing stiffly beside Marvel's corpse. The flowers he had picked were strewn across Marvel's torso, as if he had thrown them onto the Career's body as an unkempt bundle. I felt the corners of my mouth twitch into a halfhearted smile as I watched Gale almost timidly walk back to my side, his shoulders risen with discomfort.

"Let's go," Gale muttered, placing his arm around me again.

This time, I didn't protest when he started pulling me away from the clearing. Pausing only to collect the orange backpack, we waded through the water against the thrashing rain.

I had expected the muscles in my stomach to twist once the two cannons rattled throughout the arena, but I instead felt a slight sense of pride. I imagined Rue's flower crown still clinging to the top of her head as the claw of a hovercraft elevated her into the sky, and Gale's flowers toppling off of Marvel's torso once he was lifted, like a dozen bright sparks through the rainfall for all to see.

Despite how the wind continued to slice at my bare skin and how the rain cleaved the top of my head, I refused to let the storm tatter my spirits. Instead, I concentrated on keeping my booted feet steady as I slowly made my way through the forest.

Eventually, Gale and I settled for a tree with an especially thick canopy of leaves which filtered out most of the downpour, leaving us to climb onto one of its higher branches to get out of the still rising water on the ground. The tree's leaves were wide with smooth edges, and the wind occasionally sent some of them gliding across my cheek, moistening my skin with the raindrops they had collected.

The darkened clouds looked rabid as they spiraled across the sky, the wind acting like their unforgiving whispers as it rocked the tree Gale and I were in ominously. The ringing pitter-patter of the rain seemed to be in time with my quickened pulse, and every surface of my skin felt grungy underneath my sopping clothing.

I pursed my lips into a tight line before bringing my hand to the zipper of my jacket and tugging it down, peeling the drenched fabric away from my skin and immediately being freed from its excessive weight against my arms. Thankfully, the skintight shirt I had underneath it seemed to be enough to shield my skin from the biting winds.

Gale's eyes were slitted with concern as he eyed me from across the branch, strands of his soaked hair sticking to the sides of his face and his thick eyelashes clinging together from the water. The bottoms of his boots were caked with mud, and his bare torso was covered in a thick layer of goosebumps. "I think it's safe to say that no one will try to find us in this weather," he murmured, struggling to add a light note to his tone.

I flung my sodden jacket over the branch above us, its fabric slapping against the wood and casting tiny drops of water from its edges. "It wouldn't surprise me if Cato was still on the hunt," I muttered under my breath.

Gale's lips tightened into a strained line. "Let's just hope he catches hypothermia, then."

My head lurched downward, and as I let my gaze sweep over my trembling fingers and numbed skin, I silently thought of how far we were from hypothermia ourselves. I clenched my jaw in an effort to keep my teeth from chattering before feeling a blast of wind twist through the canopy of leaves and across my skin, making me snap my eyes shut as loose strands of my hair soared in the direction of the gust.

When my eyelids drew themselves open again, I was surprised to see a sudden shock of something silver entangled in the leaves in front of me. Gale was already working on tugging it out of the twigs before I even registered what it was—the sleek, glossy material of a parachute.

Raindrops glided off the parachute's surface, dampening Gale's hands as he jerked it away from the foliage and under the safety of the canopy. The white box attached to it was thoroughly soaked, the cardboard curling up at the edges and molding to Gale's fingertips. Despite this, its contents were kept primarily dry.

In it was another roll of bread, but this time it was fresh and still warm to the touch, wafting a scent of newly baked dough toward my nostrils and making my mouth fill with saliva. It wasn't white and fine like what came out of the Capitol, but made of dark, chunky grains and crudely shaped like a crescent. Its crust was golden and sprinkled with various seeds, and it crunched under the slightest touch, revealing the bread's spongy inside.

"Did Haymitch send us his lunch?" Gale wondered aloud, taking the bread from its package and letting the parachute fall to the ground. It floated on top of the water like a silver piece of driftwood.

"District 12 doesn't make bread like that," I murmured, thinking back to the small bakery I used to pass by on my way to the woods.

Gale looked at the bread, his chest falling with a deep exhale and his eyes glinting with realization. "It's from District 11."

I felt a shiver crawl up my spine as an image of the wildflowers withering slowly in the rain sprang into my mind—how they framed the round face of a girl so sprightly and birdlike, it was a wonder why she wasn't able to spread her wings and take flight. "It was probably meant for Rue," I breathed, my voice barely audible.

There was a moment where neither of us could speak, knowing that this must have been a first for the games—a district sending a parachute to tributes that were not their own.

Gale tore the bread in half and handed me a piece, and I took the warm, pulpous dough into my fingers without hesitation.

It was the first meal I had in days, and I had to hold back tears as I was chewing into it.

* * *

"_Katniss? Where are you, Katniss?"_

_Blinding sunshine suddenly sprang into my vision, making me instinctively flinch and shield my eyes. It only took a moment for me to adjust, and when I did, I noticed the light breeze tickling my skin and the field of flowers flowing at my ankles, their colorful blossoms like a tranquil creek against my skin. I was barefoot, and the plants below me were soft against my toes, their vivid petals softly swaying as one picturesque mass._

"_Oh! There you are, Katniss!"_

_I looked up, feeling my braid toss against my shoulder blades. In front of me were two girls, one with flowing blonde hair and rosy cheeks and the other with a thick wave of dark hair and slanted eyes. They were holding hands, their fingers intertwined like thin ribbons._

_My chest quaked as I studied their faces, how each of their features eerily resembled either the fragile petals of a flower or the disorderly feathers of a bird. "Prim? Rue?" I choked out before staggering forward, my knees suddenly becoming too weak to support my body weight._

"_You found us, Katniss," they both droned, talking simultaneously in the same monotonous tone. Their faces were wiped clean of emotion, staring blankly at me as I struggled to crawl toward them. "But you're too late."_

"_What do you mean?" I gasped, startled at how hoarse my voice was. I tried to pick myself up from the ground, but the flowers that were once just gently brushing against my skin were now tangling their stems around my limbs. I thrashed against them, but it only made them tighten themselves around me, cutting off my circulation and making muffled whimpers tear their way through my throat._

_The light suddenly receded into the distance, as if the sun had simply vanished. As I writhed on the ground, I watched wings burst through Rue's back, the feathers as black as coal and tipped with blood. They flapped helplessly in the air, but they seemed to only succeed in curling in on themselves and breaking, the thin bones in them snapping one-by-one, the sound of each one cracking like a knife piercing itself through my chest._

_I cried out, but they couldn't seem to hear me as they stood motionless in the tendrils of the flowers. I couldn't do anything when I saw a figure emerge from the sky, wings erupting out of his back and shining with the brilliance of the sun. His skin was so pale that it almost hurt to look at, and when he turned to face me, I instantly felt the sensation of drowning in the complete blueness of his eyes._

_Before I even had time to think, this angelic figure slashed through the air across Prim and Rue, knocking them both to the ground and slicing their chests open._

"_No!" I shrieked, wrenching at the flowers around me and finally tearing them loose from the dirt. It felt like there was liquid lead pulsing through my veins as I rushed forward, collapsing to my knees before frantically trying to wipe away the blood spurting out of their wounds. My palms came back slicked with red, from each fingertip to my wrists, making a scream build up behind my tangled vocal cords._

_Prim and Rue appeared to be already dead as they laid in the dirt, their hands still weaved together and their faces still emotionless masks._

"_You're too late," they both chanted, "Too late."_

It felt like I had crashed through a plate glass window the moment I woke up, the shards slicing my skin and the impact setting me nauseatingly off-balance. I couldn't remember even falling asleep, so as I frenziedly sat up and reflexively covered my mouth with my hands to muffle my oncoming scream, it was the most disconcerted I'd ever felt since setting foot in the arena. My chest heaved, making it impossible to breathe as I felt multiple spasms rock through my torso, and my eyes watered as the muscles in my stomach painfully twisted.

"Katniss?" I heard Gale whisper fervently from my side, followed by his palms reaching out and grazing my cheeks. "What's wrong?"

I swallowed hard, fighting back my sudden wave of nausea before taking in my surroundings with wild eyes. My body felt surprisingly warm, despite the fact that the rain was still pouring and the winds were still bitterly cold. "Nothing," I breathed, my voice raspy, "Just a nightmare."

Gale straightened himself up before letting his fingers trail up the side of my face and into my damp hair, uncharacteristically gentle.

It felt as if the world was tossing back and forth as I struggled to clear my aching head, the wind doing nothing to help my dizziness. "How did I...? What happened?"

"You fell asleep on me. It was really convenient, since I was planning to make you take the sleeping bag," Gale murmured, making me shift my eyes downward. My legs were slipped in the material of the heat-reflective sleeping bag, and the orange backpack that it came from was left open and hanging on a nearby branch.

I felt my eyes widen. "But you—"

"I'm fine," Gale insisted, but when I craned my neck to glance at him, he looked frozen to the bone. I furrowed my eyebrows with concern, and he responded by letting a ghost of a smile touch the corner of his mouth. "Seriously, Catnip. Have more faith in me," he said, a note of forced cheeriness in his tone, "Besides, you're cute when you sleep."

I let my eyes droop into slits before kicking my way out of the sleeping bag, trembles from the nightmare still pulsing through my limbs.

"See, that's exactly _why _you're cuter when you sleep," Gale added, his voice lilting, "None of this 'I refuse to accept Gale's generosity' nonsense."

With a sigh, I gestured toward the sleeping bag with a shaky finger. "Get in it," I mumbled curtly, and Gale responded by letting his weak grin widen. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the anthem abruptly ringing through the sound of the raindrops colliding with the earth.

As I turned my head up toward the sky in search of the Capitol seal, it dawned on me that I must have slept the entire day away. A lump of guilt lodged itself in my throat, and I found myself inching toward Gale's shivering frame in hopes of transferring my body heat. He had already let one of his arms snake around my waist, and I was silently thankful when he wordlessly pulled me closer to him.

When Marvel's image appeared on the screen, his dark hair tousled and his expression extremely bored, I immediately felt the same drowning sensation I had in my nightmare. His azure eyes were apparent even through the thick rain, and they seemed to pierce right through me as I stared into them. I bit the inside of my cheek, hoping that the mild pain would distract me, but it wasn't until Marvel's image was wiped away from the screen that I felt as if I had surfaced out of the haunting blueness of his irises.

I was in the process of bracing myself for Rue's image to appear when I heard the sound of two people arguing in the distance. One voice was low and calm while the other was rabid and drenched with malice, making my entire body immediately stiffen into stone.

"I don't know where they are," the low voice stressed, each word somewhat spaced out as if he had trouble speaking.

"I _know _you do, you son-of-a-bitch! Tell me where the District 12 rats are!" the other slightly crazed voice fumed. "They shouldn't even be _alive! _How am I the only Career left, when they're _both_ still living?!"

I must have unknowingly stopped breathing, because dark blotches stained my vision and blood rushed to my ears, muffling them and making my racing pulse cleave my eardrums. Goosebumps covered my skin, making the hair on the back of my neck stick up as a shudder trickled its way down my spine. _Cato._

"I have not seen them," the deep voice emphasized, and it was followed by the sound of a blade slicing through the air.

My head was pounding, the blood in it seemingly whirling in a way that made me want to crumple over and retch. I had only encountered the owner of the more monotone voice once before, and unlike the other tributes, he hadn't wanted any bloodshed. _Thresh._

"You're _lying!_ You just want to protect that little, measly district partner of yours," Cato seethed, the sound of his sword slashing through the foliage making my breaths shallow, "What was her name? Coo? Loo? Sue?"

"Rue," Thresh miffed, his rumbling voice suddenly dripping with venom. Almost on cue, Rue's image appeared on the screen in the sky, her inky eyes glowing with health and youth. She was even smiling, the corner of her mouth upturned brightly and scrunching her round cheek, making her look like a cherub angel.

The silence that followed was suffocating, and I could almost see the the life in Thresh's beady eyes crack as if someone had taken a chisel and hammer to black marble.

As soon as it felt like I had gained control of my limbs again, footsteps began to bash against the ground like cement blocks, the sound thunderous even through the thick layer of water covering the earth. "You did this?!" Thresh roared, no trace of his initial composure apparent in his blaring voice.

The sound of Cato's footsteps were almost completely silent compared to Thresh's as he swiftly stumbled backward. "Oooh, this is the beast you _should_ be! No more of that gentle giant shit, huh, Threshy?"

In a situation where a sane person should have been screaming uncontrollably, Cato was cackling, seemingly having the time of his life as he dashed through the forest. Before I could prepare myself, the Career had burst through the brush separating him from the tree Gale and I were posed in, making my ribcage ache as my heart wildly pounded against it.

"C'mere, you big, monstrous fiend!" Cato laughed, swinging his sword in the air maniacally as he turned on his heel to face the foliage he had come through. His blond hair had grown past his ears and was matted with a mixture of water and mud, making it tawny in color.

Thresh stormed after Cato, his muscles rippling under his ebony skin and his dark eyes flaring. His face was so extremely contorted with hate that it looked grotesque, and his fists were clenched to the point where his knuckles had grown white. Without a trace of hesitation, he blindly threw himself at Cato, only to stumble and kick up massive amounts of water when he missed.

"Are you _letting_ me win, Threshy?" Cato crooned mockingly, his crazed smile taking up the lower half of his face. "That's no fun." And with that, he slashed his sword at Thresh's chest using a viscous scissoring movement, opening up the District 11 tribute's gigantic torso and making blood blend in with the rainwater streaking down his skin.

Thresh let out a horrific cry, locking his swelled biceps over his wound and staining his palms with red. Cato turned, twirling his sword like a cane as he cheerfully ambled toward the tree Gale and I were watching motionlessly from.

Everything seemed to go by in slow motion as Cato abruptly stopped in his tracks and raised his frenzied gaze toward us. Air tore through my throat and burnt my lungs like fire, making me wheeze as my own frantic, widened eyes locked with his berserk, maddened ones.

"Hello, District 12," the Career chimed with a sweet smile, "I've been looking everywhere for you."

* * *

**I'm sure you know what song I used, but I'll put credit here anyway: The Beatles - Blackbird**

**I thought it would be easier to change the death list (man, that still sounds terrible) into a living list. SO:**

**LIVING LIST:**

**Cato - District 2  
Foxface - District 5  
Thresh - District 11  
Gale - District 12  
Katniss - District 12**

**Thanks for reading!**


	20. Chapter 20

**If you haven't already, I'd suggest taking a look at my one of my other fics, Only You. It's Two Fires told from Marvel's POV, and it offers a little more perspective on his motives and reasoning as well as a little insight on what happened to the Careers [end of shameless self promotion].**

* * *

**_The Hunger Games_**** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

_**What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?**_

_**Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen**_

* * *

_"Life asked Death,_

_ 'Why do people love me, _

_but hate you?'_

_Death responded, _

_'Because you are a beautiful lie,_

_and I am a painful truth.'"_

—Unknown

* * *

Water struck me like a blow, each raindrop like a tiny needle driving itself into my skin as icy gusts of wind directed themselves wildly across the leafy expanses of the treetops. It left me sucking in a sharp breath, the burning sensation in my throat contrasting against the painful iciness of the air, and my body responded with a wave of immobilizing shock, making my elbows click in place and my strained fists clench at the rough bark of the branch I was perched on.

It was almost as if the merciless wind had a color—a sickly gray, like decaying flesh—as it plunged toward the earth and whipped itself across a figure so shadow-like that his bulky, sturdy frame looked like a silhouette standing in the almost knee-deep pool of rainwater collecting on the forest floor. His arena clothing clung to his skin, leaving the outlines of his muscles to appear as hard and cold as iron as they tensed and corded over his thick bones.

Beads of moisture slid from the ends of his dingy hair as he impatiently shifted his neck to flip it out of his face, sending the wetness flying. He took a step forward, nudging the body of what had once been the powerful male tribute of District 11—now only a crumpled mess of mud, rain, and blood—with his booted foot as he went.

"I'm so glad that I can finally see your terrified faces," Cato sneered, lowering his head and peering up through his thick, rain-soaked eyelashes, "Come on, 12! Come down so we can play!"

As Cato's maniacal laughter pierced the air and rose into a booming, grating octave, only one thought was clamorously pulsing through my brain, making me feel as if a pronged blade had slashed itself across my muscles and left each of my limbs crippled and throbbing.

_I need to get Gale out of here._

Almost mockingly, I felt the branch that I had been shakily balanced on sharply teeter as the figure beside me viciously leapt off it with a grunt, leaving the leaves around me to violently shake fine sprays of mist from their smooth, wet surfaces.

The muscles that had been painfully knotting together in my chest abruptly loosened, like a pane glass window shattering into pieces, and I was left painfully breathless and petrified as I watched the person I had sworn to keep alive splash into the muddy, turbid water as he landed, descending into the gloom with only a dulled throwing knife tangled in his waterlogged fingers.

The feeling of sick, terrible emptiness was immediate, and it seared through my ribcage with such staggering potency that I was left gasping, as if Gale had taken a sizable fragment of me—one that I needed to function—before he had plunged into the dark, his feet planted sternly in front of Cato and the lean curve of his back stiff with grit.

I struggled to unlock my limbs, to tear an arrow away from my sheath and clink it onto my bowstring before ferociously diving toward the ground, but it was as if I had lost all control over my body, the jolt of everything surging through my veins and leaving my bones helplessly frozen in place.

I was sore—everything _hurt—_from the surface of my numb, goosebump covered skin to the marrow of my bones.

"It's been too long, rat," Cato cooed tauntingly, and I could see the glint of his haunting smirk, like the shine of a blade through the thick dimness. "It's too bad all my friends are dead. I'm sure your death woulda been just the thing to bring us back together."

Gale didn't reply; his silver eyes just darkened with malice, making them gleam with the shadowy brilliance of obsidian. He swiftly lunged forward with feet barely seeming to skid through the flooding water and caught Cato by the throat, his shoulder tensing as he slashed the throwing knife in front of him, making the blade shriek through the air. The wetness coating his skin made it easy for the District 2 male to squirm out of his grip and spring out of the blade's way with a gravelly burst of laughter.

Cato's tone was eerily cheery, seeming grotesquely misplaced with his wrathful expression as he zipped through the water and twirled his sword in a playful spiral above his head.

I was panting so roughly and loudly that the raindrops gliding down the icy surface of my cheeks flitted in the direction of my breath, strands of my drenched hair slapping against my shoulders as vicious gusts of bitter wind tore at them. I watched through squinted, horrified eyes as Cato's mud-streaked features broke into a demonic smile, his dried lips stretching until a thin trickle of blood mixed with the rain that was dripping down his chin. I had to tightly clamp my jaw in order to hold back a string of curses as I forced the aching, cramping muscles in my arms to work.

As my frozen hands clasped the metal surface of my bow, my knuckles so raw from the cold that it was a struggle to wrap my fingers securely around its handle, I heard the unmistakable whisper of Cato's sword whisking through the air, making me ignore the wailing protests of my limbs as I sternly tightened my grip on my weapon and bounded off the branch, landing firmly on my feet with a coarse, inelegant _sploosh_ in the water.

Both males directed their heavy gazes onto me as I darted roughly forward, each of my steps sending ripples to the surface of the flooding rainwater. My hand went reflexively to the sheath strapped to my back and wrapped itself around the wooden shaft of an arrow, the pads of my fingers numb and frostbitten.

Cato let out a ringing guffaw that sounded similar to the roar of an animal, his crazed smile stretching over the lower half of his face as he amusedly watched me load my weapon. "You rats want to die together?" He snickered darkly. "Precious."

Gale stared at me with a look of disbelief and shock clouding his features, as if he thought that I wouldn't come after him, and I forced myself to ignore it as I poured all my attention into aiming my arrow at Cato's heart. I allowed myself no hesitation as I swiftly tugged my bowstring to my chin and released it, letting the arrow's whistling breath cut through the night air in a whirling line.

The sight of Cato flashing me a terrible, sickening grin before sidestepping out of the arrow's zooming trail and bolting toward Gale with almost unseeable speed was so cutting and quick that I hardly believed that it had been real at all. I reeled my head around so swiftly that my neck screamed in protest, only to see the terrible glint of the moon bursting off Cato's sword in a thousand silver shards, like the shattered remains of a mirror, before the blade ripped downwards in a brisk, pelting arc.

I quelled a scream building in the tangled muscles of my throat, feeling my airways ache in response as I pressed my lips rigidly together and let my hand reflexively fly toward my sheath again, the crescent-like movement feeling natural to the bones in my arms. I stubbornly ignored the horror singing through my veins as I registered the sound of Gale letting out a pained grouse, a flash of red dripping across the smooth surface of his skin as Cato's blade raked a bloody groove across his cheek.

My senses and reflexes seemed to be thrashing against me, howling at me to frenziedly run to Gale's side, but I forced them to remain sharp as I repeatedly clicked my arrows onto my bowstring and sent them flying toward the District 2 male in a deadly, rushing wave of sharpened wood, taking care to space my blows away from Gale.

Cato shot me a toxic glare, his eyes dark, muddled pools of black, before he launched himself away from Gale and tumbled through the rainwater, sending showers of it upward as he fled from the arrows I was persistently blasting toward him. The way he streaked across the clearing was almost breathtaking, his figure as undetectable as a shadow as he slithered through the copses of trees, and I had to sternly squint and strain my eyes in order to not lose track of him completely. My fingers soon became raw from repeatedly being slashed against the tautness of my bowstring.

I became bitterly aware of how my sheath was swiftly being emptied, my wooden arrows striking multiple surfaces and quivering from their sudden halts, and it wasn't until Cato abruptly bursted upward from the water at my feet and snatched both my wrists in his icy, calloused fingers, his mouth warped into a demented smile and his teeth shining like razors, that I realized I had missed every shot.

The sharp movement in the water caused waves that sent my once harshly planted feet slipping against the mud, making my stance sway dizzyingly as I thrashed against Cato's death grip, my skin stinging and the veins in my wrist pulsing from the painful tightness of his clenched grasp. I let out a weak, high-pitched croak, my fingers becoming stiff from the strain and the cold.

"Remember when you shot that arrow at dear ol' Clove?" Cato rasped, tightening his hold on my wrists until the skin of my palms became tinted with a rusty shade of reddish-purple. He tilted his head and let his black eyes flit across my face, raindrops fluttering away from his eyelashes every time he blinked. "Remember that nasty infection you gave her?"

My fingers felt bloated with blood, my veins compressed agonizingly until they sang with burning pain, making my bow slip from my weakened grip and slap against the rainwater before slowly sinking into it. I exhaled roughly before shooting Cato a glare from beneath my fringe of eyelashes, feeling my cheeks flood with rage that almost succeeded in bringing warmth to my frozen skin.

He talked through a locked jaw, a permanent, ever-growing smile that showed every one of his back teeth and made his crinkled black eyes burn. "Remember how I—couldn't—even—say—_goodbye_ to her?!" With each separated staccato in his sentence, he jostled me viciously backward and forward, sending splashes of rainwater up my thighs and flashes of nauseating agony to my head. His laugh-lines were prominent against his mud-smudged skin, and with stunning speed and suddenness, he propelled forward until my back slammed against the rough, damp surface of a tree trunk, making my breath surge through my stinging throat in a hot, wheezing huff.

"Maybe I should cut off _your_ arm," Cato chuckled, pinning my hands above my head as I helplessly tried to twist away from him, "Or, hell, why not both of 'em?!"

Shuddering, I lowered my head and coughed, my throat constricted to the point where it was difficult to breathe, before I weakly glowered upward at the shine of Cato's smile.

Just as my strained muscles were beginning to uncoil themselves in placid defeat, the District 2 male's features suddenly contorted into a harsh grimace, quickly slipping and warping into a shocked gawk before he sharply bent over in pain. His back arched, making the muscles cording his spine burst through the soaked material of his arena shirt. His grip on my wrists abruptly loosened, making the flesh of my palms tingle and my wrists croon with muted pain. I slowly registered the redness of blood dripping from his biceps and into the water, the liquids lacing together in a way that made the gore seem like crimson ribbons.

Gale stood stiffly behind him, throwing knife clutched firmly between his fingers, its hilt smeared with red. His thick, dark hair stuck to the sides of his face, framing the fresh wound across his cheek and tickling the back of his neck as his full mouth twisted into an enraged scowl.

Cato's features severely blackened with hostility, like the radiance of the sun being eclipsed and smothered, leaving me to widen my eyes at him and watch as his starless eyes slid menacingly in Gale's direction.

"Looks like you actually ended up cutting me, slum-dog," he growled through his teeth, jaw clenched until the muscles at the back ends of his jowl bulged through his rugged skin. He straightened himself up with haunting slowness, dabbing his thick fingers in the blood dribbling down his steel-like arm. "Doesn't even hurt!" The sides of his mouth curled into a grim smile. "Aw, probably the best you could do with that little knife."

Gale snarled like an animal, the moonlight seeming to glance off the panes and angles of his face as he lunged forward again with blade in hand, unyieldingly slashing its dulled surface across the iron-hard expanse of Cato's chest. He ripped the weapon in front of him until the material of the Career's shirt was wet with blood, brushing against narrow, spidery wounds.

The District 2 male hissed out a sick, terrible sound that didn't seem to be human, like the roar of a wildfire as it erupted into a destructive, uncontrollable mass, and he spun sharply around on his heel before harshly grasping the hilt of his sword and whipping it toward Gale's heart.

Gale's eyes widened, shock pulsing through his expression for a split second before he leaped backward and away from the blow, making the blade split the air in front of him with a shrieking whistle. The tip of it just barely slid across his chest, raking a shallow slice and immediately welling blood. The red liquid collected in uneven clumps along the slit, and Gale's eyebrows crumpled together as he felt the stinging pain of it.

Cato hissed darkly under his breath, all traces of humor gone from his face. He advanced toward Gale, his forbidding steps like the deadly slither of a snake.

It felt as if the wind had teeth as it ripped mercilessly through the clearing, biting each bare surface of my skin and leaving it thrumming with needle-like pain. As I frantically struggled to regain the blood-flow in my benumbed, prickling palms, I realized that the very tips of my fingers were beginning to fade into a pallid shade of sickly purple, leaving the muscles in my chest to knot up with gnawing anxiety.

The grating, shrill clanging of blades swiping together rippled through the air, cleaving my eardrums and leaving my head to ache from the ringing. My vision began to blur as my skull yowled in pain. It seemed as if I was slipping in and out of consciousness as I reflexively stretched out a shaking arm to reach into the flooding rainwater and blindly feel for the metallic surface of my bow.

Cato bellowed thunderously between blows. The raspy grunt Gale responded with seemed to fuel me from the inside, making me bare my teeth as I viciously tore my arm through the water until it rested on the familiar firmness of my bowstring. I gripped at it, but my fingers refused to bend, the bones in them seemingly frozen and leaving the joints to pulse with muffled aches.

A hiss of pain slithered through my clenched teeth as I forced my agonized fingers to wrap around my bow, each bone in them stiff and cracking. As I wrenched my hands out of the arctic water, it felt as if everything past my forearms had gone completely numb, making my grip clumsy as I reached into my sheath and fumbled with an arrow.

My vision was sharp; I knew exactly where to point my arrow at Cato's back so that it would tear through his flesh and pierce his heart, but my grip was painfully shaky, each of my limbs quaking with surges of consuming trembles. I strained the muscles in my arms until they were burning in an attempt to steady myself, but my body continued to lurch, making my pulse pummel against my ribcage as a choking amount of anxiety clawed its way through my veins.

I pulled my bowstring back, making the pads of the fingers that were pressing against it feel as if they were being sliced. I closed one of my eyes and struggled to aim, my eyebrows harshly furrowing and my mouth thinning into a bloodless line. A haunting tingle trickled its way through my arms as I readied myself to send my arrow soaring, my fingers slowly slipping away from the bowstring—

Cato whirled his head around to peer at me from above his meaty shoulder, his mouth contorting into his sickening razor-blade smile. I was caught off guard by his sudden gaze, leaving my eyes to widen and my already unsteady knees to buckle.

The Career's smile seemed to brighten, and his irises, usually as black as pitch, lightened with a certain glint of eagerness. "Trying to sneak up on me, beautiful?" He chuckled darkly.

My breaths came out in wheezy, frantic pants. Gale's eyes flashed, sensing that Cato had become distracted, and he briskly slashed his throwing knife forward, only to have the District 2 male shoot him a toxic glare before slapping his calloused palm against Gale's wrist and sharply jerking it backward, so hard and forceful that the nauseating sound of bones snapping pierced the air.

Gale clenched his jaw, possibly in an attempt to stifle the low scream of agony he let out afterward, heaving his arm away from Cato and gaping at his now limp hand with eyes like great gray storm clouds.

I heard myself shrieking Gale's name as if from a distance, my voice cracking and rising to bloodcurdling octaves before I seemed to lose control of my entire body, like I had been thrusted into a sea of animalistic instinct. I threw myself toward them, my legs ripping through the rainwater and sending waves of it upward. With dizzying quickness, Cato twisted one of his arms around Gale in a manner that reminded me of a serpent crushing the air out of its prey and dashed away from me, into the trees.

I bursted into full-sprint behind them, my nerves frantic and burning as I tramped blindly through the water, branches and leaves whipping my cheeks and sticking in my hair as I zipped past.

There was a split second where I caught sight of them—the back of Cato's head, his tousled, soaked locks in a mess of mud and rain and the steel-like hardness of his arm around Gale's neck—and I responded by gripping my bow at its end before whipping the metal handle of it toward the Career's temple, hearing it crack against his skull before I sprang backward and readied myself to throw another blow.

It was as if my brain was clouded by pure adrenaline, muffling the sounds and sights of the real world and making it so that I was only able to register a few things—Cato whirling around to face me with his fist raised above his menacing, rage-soaked features and Gale roaring out my name—before I felt a sharp pain in my head, stars appearing at the back of my eyes and a haunting chill grazing my skin.

I felt myself fall as blackness washed out the faint pallor of my vision, my body blunderingly slapping into the water and my braid loosening, making my hair spill in a straggled wave against my shoulder blades. I willed myself to shoot my body upwards, to chase after them with every last trace of energy I could pound out of myself, but my limbs laid motionless, floating askew at the surface of the rainwater.

I was teetering on the edge of consciousness, making it so that surges of nothingness would rack through my brain for split seconds between flashes of the biting iciness of the water against my skin and the throatiness of Gale's usually velvety voice screaming my name out in the distance.

I forced myself to claw at the surface of reality until I could dazedly steady myself on my knees and wade helplessly through the water, eventually getting to my feet. My hands gripped at a nearby tree, its bark thoroughly sodden from the rain, and it wasn't long before I snatched my bow out of the water and began mindlessly racing through the foliage in the direction of Cato's slamming footsteps again, my pulse clobbering my ribcage.

The only sound my eardrums could pick up for an agonizing stretch of time was just the frantic beating of my heart, its hysterical hammering like an echo to my frenzied footsteps as I forced myself to trudge forward. It eventually cleared, but I wish it hadn't, because it made Cato's maniacal fits of laughter tormentingly clear as they rang through the trees.

"Are you still following us, beautiful?" he crooned, and I threw myself in the direction of his sickening voice, only to find empty stretches of wet trees. "Don't be jealous! I'll play with you, too! Just be patient!"

I let out a sharp breath and found with utmost surprise that it was uneven and tremulous and filled with feverish fright.

"—_Katniss!"_

My feet involuntarily froze as a rasping, husky voice echoed through the treetops, making my heart do a wild somersault in my chest and my throat painfully constrict. _Gale._

And suddenly, I was screaming, my eyes stinging and my mind completely numb as it lost all control over my body. "_Gale?!—" _I screeched, bolting in the direction of the stifled sound of him struggling. "Gale, where are you?!"

"Katniss! Don't—!" He choked. "I'll take care of Cato! Just run away! _Go!_ It's your time now!"

A rush of shock surged through my veins as I felt a steady plash of tears rim my lower eyelids, blurring my already severely muddled vision. "_No!" _My voice was thick with tears, the words cut off by the occasional sob, and I shamefully tried to hide it as I shrieked wildly at the empty expanses of trees that rose like the iron bars of a cage around my trembling frame. "N-No! I won't!"

"You have to!" Gale's voice was strikingly far away, and it struck the air around me with agonizing weakness. "I know you can do it! I know you're strong enou—!" He let out an agonized screech, like nothing I had ever heard come out of his mouth before, the rest of his sentence cut cleanly off.

I heard myself scream out his name—wishing desperately that he would respond, that he would tell me that everything was all right—but I was met only by the piercing echoes of my own grating voice. "_Gale!_ Gale, no! _Please!"_

My legs were aimlessly tearing through the water as I frenziedly panted and sobbed, the rain cleaving the top of my head with such force that I heard the rough pitter-patter in my skull. "Gale, I—_won't!" _I was only slightly aware of being completely drenched, layers of water gushing down my frontside and leaving my skin gleaming with a thin, icy sheet of moisture. "I won't leave you!"

It must have been completely and utterly silent apart from my gruff whimpers and the tumultuous sound of the downpour, but Gale's anguished cry continued to replay in my eardrums with deafening power as I continued to force myself to move through the trees, my skin thrumming and my bones stiff. My muscles began to burn and cramp and my lungs seared as I sucked in fiery breaths, contrasting with how empty and _cold_—so nastily and bitter _cold_—my body was.

I had somehow scrambled my way uphill, my hair draping around my shoulders as a snarled mane. The elevation made the rainwater lower to below my ankles, and the aching muscles in my thighs went slack with relief. "Gale?" I shakily called out, my eyes stinging and my throat thick with tears. "Ga—"

A cannon shrieked its way through the air, the sound sickening and terrible and leaving me to stop dead in my tracks, my eyes blank and my bones frozen.

It was as if that sound was a blade to my chest, striking me so violently that a shock of numbness raked its way across my skin. I was left dropping where I was, as if my legs had simply stopped working, and I lumberingly slapped into the mud before frigidly laying there, like a dying animal.

_I'll take care of Cato! Just run away! Go!_

Trilling, hoarse sobs slashed at my eardrums, and I was surprised to hear that they were slicked with my own weak voice. The wavering sound was much louder than before, and I felt myself gradually being consumed by it, my mind slipping away as trails of hot tears flitted across the icy surface of my cheeks.

_It's your time now!_

I harshly shut my eyes, squeezing them until my vision was stained with blotches of color, but I couldn't seem to rid myself of the image plastered in my mind's eye—a boy with a slightly miffed expression, black hair, silver eyes, thick lashes, full mouth, chiseled cheekbones, lean muscles twined with iron—his hands slipped around me, cupping the back of my neck with both gentleness and hot desire, pliant and tender but rough with callouses...

_It'll all be worth it because...Because I love you, Katniss._

And then there was a girl, so small and gentle in stature but so powerful and steely in spirit that one felt almost meek in comparison, with curls of untamable raven hair spidering around her shoulders, always ruffled as if she was a bothered sparrow, and big, shining eyes as black as a starless night sky.

_Don't be sad, Katniss. It isn't a good look for you._

A voice as soft and feeble as a thin ribbon laced with silver bells trickled through the air around me, and I realized with a slight jolt that it was mine. Fragile song lyrics slipped through my trembling lips as I laid helplessly on the forest floor, crumpled in on myself like a dried leaf splintered into dust.

"_In the forest we are hiding,_

_Unmarked graves where flowers grow..."_

My breath hitched, and my singing voice became as scratchy and rough as a storm at sea, the rain slicking itself across my withered body and collecting at my sides in small, murky pools.

_"Hear the soldiers angry yelling,_

_In the river we will go..."_

* * *

Do not stand at my grave and weep.

"_Katniss...Katniss, you need to wake up."_

I am not there. I do not sleep.

_My eyelids fluttered open, and I was immediately assaulted by the painful heaviness of my limbs, as if every fiber of my being was sore and hurting._

_I involuntarily choked out a soft whimper before feeling the warm, gentle silkiness of a hand brushing against my cheek, drooping its way down to frame my jaw and graze my neck. It landed gingerly on my collarbone, leaving everything it stroked blanketed in a wave of hot, glowing tingles._

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

_A slight shiver trickled through my bones before I dazedly cupped my palms around the hand, my fingers lacing themselves against it and greedily pulling it closer until I could feel its heat completely against my freezing skin. I felt myself let out a relieved sigh._

_My hazy vision cleared, and my eyes struggled to make out the image of the hand's owner—a boy, beautiful beyond belief with his disheveled locks of black hair and cloudless gray eyes, a sort of darkness weaving itself in his irises like the bottom of the ocean. He gazed down at me, the soft slit of his mouth taut with slight concern._

_My heart seemed to swell in my chest, making it difficult to breathe as the slightest of grins wriggled on my lips. "Gale," I choked, and my hands slid themselves upward to glance themselves across the graceful curves of his features—his eyelashes, his jaw, his cheekbones, warming under the pads of my fingers—just to make sure that he was really there._

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

_His eyebrows crinkled together, as if he didn't expect my touch to be so tender in response to his._

"_I thought..." I had to pause to take the sight of him in, his skin free from the grime and dirt of the arena and his hair perfectly wind-swept the way it had always been in District 12, wreathing slightly at the ends and tickling the nape of his neck. The dark, soft strands brushed against my knuckles as they lightly fell into his face. "...I thought you left me."_

When you awaken in the morning's hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

_He smiled, a sad, regretful smile, faint laugh lines fanning out the corners of his silver eyes. His hands flattened against the small of my back, pressing me into the warmth of his chest until not even a millimeter of space was between us._

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

"_I did," he whispered, his voice dry and numb._

Do not stand at my grave and cry.

_A jolt racked through my veins, my body feeling as if it had just slapped against the cold, unforgiving surface of arctic waters, the iciness like thousands of knives scraping against my skin._

"_No," I choked, feeling my eyes sting as my hands began to tremble against the hot surface of Gale's skin, "You wouldn't do that to me. Not after—"_

_A slight gasp sounded at the back of my throat as I abruptly felt the fieriness of Gale's lips against mine, cutting off my words and replacing my frigid, bitter anxiety with a feeling so soft that my bones were left melting and my nerves scorching._

_I began to shake as his hands flitted their way into my hair, winding the strands between his slender fingers. His chest fell with a sharp exhale, as if he was letting out a breath he had been holding for centuries, and as the sturdy circle of his arms tentatively tightened around my quivering torso, I felt his heart thrumming wildly and his feverish body heat emit through his shirt. He smelled exactly how I remembered, like a mixture of pine, ashes, and sunshine._

"_Katniss," he groaned against my mouth, and a burning shudder ran through me as his velvety voice tickled lightly against my eardrums. "Katniss...I'm so sorry."_

I am not there.

_His lips slipped away from mine, and I was left huskily panting as his silver eyes locked somberly on me, the depths of them so shaken that they looked like endless layers of static. "It's not over yet."_

I did not die.

I sprang upwards with a jounce shuddering through my bones, my hair spilling loosely over my frontside as I rasped and choked into my hands. I was suddenly cold again, freezing to the point where the slightest prod to my frozen skin would send stabbing prickles through my body, and the darkened rims of my eyes stung with dried tears.

It took a moment for me to take in my surroundings. The mud under me was so moist that I had already sunk a couple inches into it. The trees were sodden, their upturned leaves dripping with the icy water that had collected in their centers, and a fine mist slithered through the air, a merciful replacement for the heavy sheets of rain. I observed all of this through slitted eyes, my vision blurred with moisture as I continued to cough until my throat felt raw and scratched.

"Wow. Girl on Fire, huh?"

I whirled myself around as a trilling voice wriggled into my eardrums, vaulting to my feet and raising tremulous fists in front of me reflexively.

My eyes landed on a girl, her amber eyes skeptical and her splash of red hair thoroughly gnarled into straggled tendrils coiling around her shoulders, and I took a couple steps backward, looking hastily around for...

...For Gale.

Without my permission, a raspy sob punched its way through my airways, making my body quake as unrelenting tremors pulsed through my muscles in response to the sudden racking waves of pain in my chest. I brought my hands to my reddened, sore eyes, feeling tears fight their way to the surface.

The girl arched one of her eyebrows dubiously. "...More like Girl Who Was Burned."

She tentatively made her way toward me, her steps as quiet and soft as a fox's deadly prowl as her yellow eyes glided over my frail body, studying just how weak and ruined I had become. "Pretty girl like you shouldn't be taking naps on the forest floor. Especially with all that squirming you did." She arched a pale eyebrow. "Got yourself all muddy. Must have been having one hell of a dream."

I felt one of her spindly fingers brush a strand of my knotted hair away from my eyes, and I shrank hastily away from it, peering at her incredulously. "If you came to kill me," I rasped, startled at how hoarse and gravelly my voice was as it raked through my searing throat, "just do it, Foxface."

Her eyebrows rose with slight surprise before her face twisted into a dark smile, the light freckles spattered over the brim of her cheeks contorting. "Foxface, huh? Haven't heard that one before." She placed her hands on her hips, making her black arena shirt stretch over her torso and reveal just how grossly skinny she had become—ribs and hipbones bulging harshly out of her skin like knives—before she impatiently shook her ginger locks out of her face. "I like the sound of it, though. _Foxface._"

"Why are you wasting time?" I choked, my voice shrill as it shrieked through the air. My entire being ached, and I had to lean against the soaked surface of a tree in order to continue standing upright. "Aren't you here to kill me?"

Foxface blinked before letting her thin, coppery eyebrows furrow concernedly over her slanted eyes. "_Kill_ you?" she echoed, her voice tight with disbelief. "_Me?_...Well, I probably could." She let her eyes slide over my body, her features scrunching up with slight pity. "You look awful."

I swallowed hard, imagining how absolutely drained and defeated I must have looked—my already reedy frame malnourished, the skin around my clouded gray eyes smudged with the blackness of insomnia, my skin smeared with swirls of dirt, salty trails of dried tears streaked across my frozen cheeks...

My eyes squinted into a weak glare. "I'm still healthy enough to fight."

"Oh, go ahead! Rip me up!" Foxface chimed, her frostbitten face brightening. "I've been trying to get myself out of this hell for _days_. Starving takes a long time apparently, and this arena has absolutely no ledges to leap off of." Her shoulders tensed. "I tried asking you for a little help a while ago, but your boyfriend, the one from District 1, ended up interrupting." She leered at me, her thin lips tautening into a grin. "I saw him in the death recaps. Too bad, he was a real looker."

"Marvel wasn't my boyfriend," I said sternly, my voice shaking.

Foxface responded by waving her willowy white hand dismissively in my direction. "Yeah, yeah. I know about the whole star-crossed lover thing you have going on with your district partner. Real tragic. Probably won the hearts of millions or whatever." She let her golden gaze flit across the clearing, leaning forward and letting her shreds of scarlet hair dribble over her shoulders in a matted curtain. "Where is he, anyway? I know I said Marvel was a looker, but _wow, _compared to your district partner, he's noth—"

"Gale's dead," I croaked, meaning for my voice to be strong but instead wincing as it came out as a sick, terrible whimper, as if I was struggling to hiss out words while being strangled.

Foxface visibly stiffened, the thin muscles in her spidery limbs tensing as she hesitantly turned her head to lock her eyes on my slumped body. "...You sure?"

My stomach lurched, and I felt my knees buckle as all the smothering, agonizing emotions that pummeled through my veins while chasing Cato struck me like a merciless wave, my heart beating my ribcage like the frantic pulse of the ocean. "I heard his cannon," I griped, crinkling my nose and willing my tears back.

Foxface let one of her eyebrows arch. "Are you sure it was _his_ cannon?"

I felt myself falter, a stinging discomfort stringing itself through my limbs. "...No," I murmured.

"Well then, why do you look like you've already lost all hope?" Foxface asked, shifting her weight and making her hipbone jut out of her side, her limbs so sickeningly thin that it was a wonder where she got the strength to stand.

The air felt like lines of fire as it slithered through my throat, scorching my lungs and making my torso quake as I held back fits of coughs. "Cato got him," I rasped, and a sudden surge of rage flared through my veins, making my frame tense before I frustratedly rammed a stern fist against the tree I was leaning on. "I_ let_ Cato get him."

Looking strikingly like a fox begrudgingly making its way out of a sheep-yard, the red-haired girl in front of me proceeded to animately straighten herself up before letting her skeletal hands roughly grip at my shoulders, her face tense with grit. "Maybe he didn't need saving, sweetcheeks." She smiled, a wily, mischievous smile. "How 'bout we find out?"

Her grin broadened to the point where each one of her sharp teeth was shining, and I flinched away, feeling my eyebrows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Foxface stressed, swiveling delicately on her heel before bending down and wrapping her bony fingers around the metallic bow I had plunked into the mud with. She lightly tossed it in my direction, making me claw after the weapon with shock lining my features before she let a gurgly chuckle slash through her pallid lips. "...that we're going to find your boyfriend, dead or alive, even if it means that we have to rip that District 2 bastard's throat out ourselves."

* * *

**Thanks for all the support! It seriously means the world to me.**

**No Death/Living List will be posted anymore, since it'd interfere with some of the twists this story has left. Cough.**

**The lyrics sung by Katniss are from Haiti by Arcade Fire, and the poem is by Mary E. Frye.**


	21. Chapter 21

**I originally had an A/N for this chapter that took up two whole pages in Word, and it wasn't until after I read it over a couple times that I deleted it and decided that it would be better to keep things straight and to the point.**

**I'm so sorry I ended up vanishing. I had an accident that landed me in the hospital right after the last update, and I ended up getting diagnosed with dysthymia and generalized anxiety. That led to me taking dangerous amounts of caffeine supplements (I thought they would motivate me. It was dumb). It took me a long time to recover to the point where I could talk with people again, not to mention where I could sleep for an entire night. It's difficult to explain now that I've been fully recovered for a little more than half a year. It's just that I stopped caring about everything—about my family, my friends, myself, this story. I thought that if I just disappeared, people would eventually forget I ever existed.**

**Well, I was wrong. I would look in my e-mail inbox everyday, and it stung a little each time I saw a new review in it. Sometimes they were pleading, sometimes they were angry, sometimes they were insulting, and sometimes they were hopeless, thinking that I had given up for good. Those hurt the most.**

**Alright, this is getting long again, so I'm just going to say that I never expected to have such loyal readers. It's absolutely mind-boggling that some of you still exist after so long, and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it. **

**As thanks, I'm reviving this project. ( **I HAVE EVERYTHING ALREADY WRITTEN—truthfully, this time—AND I WILL BE POSTING UPDATES ONE DAY APART. THAT INCLUDES THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THE SEQUEL. **) I'm really rusty, and this A/N is still basically a novel, but I hope you'll forgive me and continue reading nonetheless. **

**I love you all, and I sincerely mean that. Thank you so much, and I hope I don't let you down again.**

* * *

**_The Hunger Games_**** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

**_What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?_**

**_Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen_**

* * *

_"How terrible it is to love something that death can touch."_

—Jill Wolfson

* * *

Cold air, pins and needles pricked my lungs. Making my way through the thick greenery sprawled across the forest floor proved to be very difficult, my mind making it feel as if the ground underneath my feet was dizzyingly unsteady. I found myself having to knead my temples with frostbitten fingers to keep from stumbling.

The dense fog didn't help; it slithered deep into the distance, washing out my view of the endless trees and replacing it with sheets of translucent whiteness. Rainwater had dribbled into my boots, and my waterlogged feet squelched in them as the soles gripped at the mud like suction cups. My arena clothes were thin and skin-tight, making them dry off quickly, but they still clung to my goosebump-covered flesh like icy drapery, sending shivers racking through my already frozen bones.

"You left everything back where you were camped?" Foxface leered at me from the corner of her slanted eyes, her chin tilted upward and her footing light and agile against the mud, making my steps look gawky and blundering in comparison. She had a habit of slipping in and out of sight, her fox-like prowl enabling her to wriggle around the sodden tree trunks like a silent breath. Unease ebbed frostily in my chest.

"I have my bow," I muttered, trying to ignore the sheepish glint in my voice.

Foxface let out an extended groan, leaning backwards and theatrically resting the back of her hand on her forehead. I peered at her through my eyelashes, feeling a pang of wistfulness stab through my torso as an image of a certain pink-haired escort flashed through my mind—her lipstick-rimmed mouth rounded into an O, her white makeup thick as muck, the heels of her shoes clacking against the hard flooring.

"Such a pretty face. Ain't nothing upstairs," Foxface muttered. Her golden eyes were fixed into a glare, the rusty sienna of her light eyelashes tangling together as she squinted into the distance. "You'd think a broad like you would at _least _nab her own jacket. How are you even alive right now?"

My shoulders tensed as I remembered how I had left my heat-reflective jacket slung over a branch after it had become thoroughly drenched by the rain. Mockingly, a shiver rushed through my limbs. "Some people have priorities other than gathering," I grumbled darkly, looking at her sideways. "Or, in your case, stealing."

The corner of Foxface's mouth dove downward into a slight frown, making the light splash of freckles across the white pallor of her skin contort. "There are kids out here slicing each other up and laughing at the corpses, and you get on me for pinching a li'l food now and then?" She stopped in her tracks, shaking her red hair out of her face before ramming her spindly fists into her sleeves. The dark material of her jacket laid floppily around her forearms after she pulled out multiple packets of dried fruit, the packaging clear and vacuum-sealed. "And to think I was gonna share my loot with you."

My eyebrows rose as I took in her skeletal figure. The dried fruit had actually made her body look _full_, like a sort of padding against the bones jutting out of her pasty skin. Without it, she looked like the decaying carcass of an animal, the shadows between her ribs apparent even through her arena clothing.

Foxface must have caught me staring because her seemingly permanent and irreversibly cruel smile had softened. After a pause, her torso shook with silent, sad laughter as she promptly let her arena jacket slide off her arms and gather in her palms as a pile of thick, black fabric. "You're shaking like a leaf." She took a gentle step toward me before draping the clothing around my shoulders, pulling the collar close to my neck and letting the heat-reflective inside warm my icy, benumbed skin. "You need this more than I do, sweetheart."

I visibly blanched, the nickname bringing me back to simpler days before the Arena, when my biggest problem was a drunk mentor. A sick, strangled sound tangled itself in the back of my throat.

Foxface let out a breathy exhale, the bridge of her narrow nose scrunching slightly as she watched me weakly shrink into the jacket's warmth. It smelled like a mixture of copper and honey, a sweetness that was laced with acid. A painful pressure built up behind my eyes.

"Hey...Aw, c'mon, 12," she nervously tittered, "You're not gonna cry, are you?"

A noise of frustration bubbled from my throat, and before I could even will my mouth to form the word "no," Foxface took me by the shoulders and pulled me into a vicious hug. It wasn't soft, and it wasn't warm; it was filled with the bitterness of the air and the bones of her starvation, each prod and each shiver a grim reminder of where we really were. My throat began to tighten, and so did Foxface's hold on me, her tangled mess of hair scratching the side of my face and her ribs like hard shards of ice against me. The only source of warmth were the hot tears rimming my stinging bottom eyelids.

"Why are you doing this?" I rasped, my voice a harsh whisper. "Helping me? What are you even gaining?"

I felt the flat, flinty resistance of Foxface's chest deflate as she let out a sigh. She slowly edged away from me, letting her arms slide away from my shoulders. "Salvation. Redemption. Whatever you want to call it," she said, bending down to gather the packets of dried fruit she had dropped earlier, "Or...Maybe I just felt sorry for you."

I grunted coldly, my voice brassy as I shook off the jacket and held it back out to her. It was easy to gain back my composure when all the muscles in my face were all but frozen. "I don't need your pity," I muttered, and it was with grim synchronization that the word _sweetheart _resonated deep in my skull, mouthed by a stubbled face and carried on breath that was soured with whiskey.

Foxface raised her eyebrows. "With all due respect, 12, I might be the one with a death wish," she lulled, straightening herself out and stubbornly pushing the jacket back into my arms, "but you're the one who looks dead."

* * *

My foot slammed against a tree, its leaves sending a fine shimmer of water swirling through the air. A thin film of light connected with it and made a pastel, washed-out rainbow in the skyward moisture for a split second before the mist came slashing down onto my face, stinging like icy needlepoints.

Foxface crouched a couple meters away from me, huddled over a pile of sodden wedges of tree bark and scouring a thin piece of flint with a dulled throwing knife. The flint's sparks fell flat on the wet wood.

"Keep those combustibles comin', 12," she all but mumbled to herself, her bulging shoulder blades squirming like two separate dorsal fins through her arena shirt.

I directed my attention back to the tree and raked the heel of my boot against it again, tearing away a biggish slab of bark. It stuck outward at a misshapen angle, drooping as if it was sick. "Wet wood means more smoke," I said numbly, grabbing the bark piece and throwing it onto the pile, "A lot of smoke. Black smoke."

"Good!" Foxface chimed, flashing a sharp smile at me. "Maybe kitty-cat Cato will find us." She hooked her hand at me like a claw and meowed, and I tried to fight back an image of a certain squished-face feline from home as I sharply turned around and kicked the tree again with a thunderous _thump_.

My sense of time had been almost completely ruined. The arena carried a cloudy after-rain gloom that made me guess it was early morning, ribbons of white light puncturing the dusk and making the fog slithering through the air shine with a dreary glow like light gray moonstones.

I stroked the smooth layer of inner wood I had revealed after stripping a sizable chunk of bark off the tree, feeling faint tickles of wood flakes and a cool, slight dampness on my palm. I was glad that I had regained feeling in my fingers, as pruned and stiff with cold as they were.

"Hand me the knife," I said flatly in Foxface's direction, and she held it out by the tip of its blade, allowing me to grip its handle and set its serrated edge on the trunk's tender heartwood. I scraped it up and down until fine wood shavings gathered in a little mound in the center of my cupped hand.

Leaving deep cornrow abrasions in the tree, I stepped away, kneeling across from Foxface and feeling cold muck and mud seep through the knees of what was left of my arena leggings. I laid the woodcarvings in a flakey bed across the bark.

"This is the saddest bunch of tinder I've ever seen," Foxface muttered, her pointed chin dimpling with disappointment.

I opened my mouth to counter, only to have the knife snatched from my hand with quick, reedy fingers. My head snapped upward in surprise just in time to see Foxface—her mass of matted hair swept over her shoulder and the knife pressed where her locks began the base of her head—rake the blade upward and cleanly slice off her curls.

My lips parted in silent shock as scarlet strands of hair fell from her fist and slowly spiraled to the mud like a swirl of heatless, crimson fire, the color striking compared to the dull browns and grays of the forest. She continued hacking at her ruby mane with crude sawing motions until it was shorn close to her skull like a fever patient's.

With steady hands, she gathered a handful of hair from the ground and rolled it into a tangled ball of oranges and reds in her small palms, setting it on top of the wood shavings and bark like a bright, vibrant centerpiece.

"What are you—" I started, cut off when Foxface scuffed the blade across the flint, her fingers erupting in a bright cloudburst of sparks.

A pale aurora of flames, thin and rippling, emerged from the tinder with a sort of meek slowness. Foxface let out a shrill whoop, getting down on all fours and pursing her apricot lips before softly blowing at the base of the fire, making it grow and sharply flicker.

It smelled terrible, giving off black, sludgy smoke like a ruptured land-mine. I turned my head and coughed into the crook of my arm, feeling moisture gather at the corners of my eyes.

The sound of Foxface's feral, warbling cheers served as an off-beat harmony to the crackles of the fresh fire. I squinted through the exhaust, only to see her dancing around it with her gaunt face smiling and her filthy hands reaching frenziedly toward the clouded sky.

A strong gust of wind caught the flames, the sparks hitting my face like burning kisses. "What are you _doing?"_ I all but retched, my windpipe ablaze from the smoke.

Foxface looked at me with her amber eyes gleaming, spinning on her toes until she was close enough to take my trembling hands into her own. "Celebrating," she whispered, and the fire behind her bursted into thick puffs of soot and smog, dovetailing around her gangly frame like a pair of misty black wings. "You could stand to liven up a li'l, too, sweet-cheeks."

I snatched my hands away from her, aware of how quickly my expression had darkened. "You realize twenty children died on the ground you're standing on," I grumbled.

"I'll never forget it," she said, acidic words slipping through smiling teeth, and my eyebrows twitched upward in slight surprise as she continued. "I close my eyes, and I still see them all looking at me. Calling for me. Screaming." She turned around in a slow, lulling pivot, swishing her hand through the air in an attempt to clear the smoke. She crouched near the base of the fire, unhooking a metal canteen from her belt and placing it upright in the shallow flames, taking care to unscrew the cap slightly to keep it from bursting.

"Then why—"

"I have to abandon them again and again. Every moment that I'm alive, I have to look at all the bodies I jumped over to get here and say, 'No. No, I can't save you.'" She craned her neck to look at me, and her moistened eyes and quivering chin hit me like two separate jabs to the chest. She was still smiling. "I'm celebrating because it's almost _over_, Katniss. For both of us."

I looked at her for a long time with eyes stinging from arid exhaust, with shoulders shaking and skin prickling from the contrasting ice in the air. I stepped forward, my rubber soles pressing chopped bundles of red hair into the mud until they curled and jutted like flaming rosebuds.

Crouching beside her, I could take in the sharp panes and hollows of her starving profile much more clearly, the fire providing a glowing red outline on her ashen, colorless skin. The speckles of ash on her cheeks blended in with her gray freckles. I had seen corpses with more life than her.

Swallowing, I whispered—quietly but firmly: "None of this is your fault."

Foxface mutedly widened her eyes, making the dark bags underneath them sag.

"You're a victim. Just like the rest of us."

We were quiet, the popping and crackling of the burning bark a droning din in the silence. Foxface held herself tensely, the harsh furrow between her brows saying all the things she wouldn't dare reveal to the cameras—her pain, her grief, her guilt.

It was a moment of weakness that she quickly extinguished. I watched tiredly as she sternly stood up, jaw tight, and prodded her metal canteen out of the fire with the toe of her shoe. It smoldered red-hot like an ember in the cool, wet dirt.

My eyes half-lidded with uncertainty. "Wh—"

"This," Foxface gestured toward the canteen, "is about to be some really bad tea. It should warm us up, though." She pulled out two packets of dried fruit from the waistband of her arena leggings, absently tearing them open with her teeth.

We moved in the opposite direction of the wind so the smoke wouldn't blow in our faces. It billowed upward through the treetops and struck the clouds with such heftiness that it looked wooly—an undulating black puff in the sky.

Foxface flicked the cap off the canteen before funneling a full packet of dried fruit into it with her spindly hand. She used one of my wooden arrows to mash the fruit until the water became dark and fragrant.

We took turns sipping at it. The pulped remnants of the steeped fruit had a syrupy type of potency when bitten into, and the water itself was thinly laced with what tasted like burnt sugar. It was crisp and sweet like candied cinnamon to my neglected tastebuds.

I felt the tea's heat like molten lava at the back of my throat and the pit of my stomach, feeling halfway thawed for the first time in what felt like an eternity. My breath was hot like steam as I slowly averted my glassy gaze to the freckled girl next to me, my voice a tentative murmur as I asked, "What's your name?"

"Foxface," she answered without hesitation.

I frowned. "No, really."

The bow of her plump lips twitched downward with slight discomfort. "I don't see why I need to tell you..." She breathed slowly, lulling on each word. "...considering we won't know each other for much longer."

The bow of my shoulders tensed slightly at her harsh words.

"Besides," she chirped, "I like the nickname you gave me. Foxface. It suits me."

She looked at me, smiling, patches of red hair dotting her scalp like sores.

* * *

The fire didn't last long; minutes, perhaps. Its tinders glowed with a dull orange through the lingering black smoke. The treetops were stained with soot. Burn wounds punctured dreary leaves and crisp char silhouetted them against the sky.

Foxface slowly climbed a nearby tree, mumbling angrily about how the trunk was too slippery. She wanted a bird's eye view, hoping to spot the Cornucopia. I stayed by the base with my hands tightly gripping my bow, my knuckles whitened into pearls, my feet planted as permanently as sycamore roots.

Everything was a cold mix of grays, the only things contrasting against the anemic color palette being the cinders and the remnants of Foxface's hair. They exhibited a sickly kind of brilliance like stipples of blood. My mind hinted at it being mid-afternoon, but the misty ether still carried the ashen mutedness of dusk and early morning. It was overcast to the point of being dismal, I thought, the suspicious silence of the woodlands around us a jittering anxiety in my gut.

"You stay on guard!" Foxface called downward, her voice thinly floating in the thick, murky air. "Keep your eyes peeled. Cato m—AH!"

My head snapped upward, only to see that one of Foxface's pointed feet had slid off a branch, leaving her precariously dangling for a few moments until she regained her footing. Her ribby chest deflated as she let out a hot breath of relief.

I clicked my tongue in distaste. "Not a lot of trees in District 5," I quietly murmured to myself. My eyebrows rose in surprise when Foxface loudly countered with, "Cut the sass, 12!"

Her ears were sharp.

It was a while before she had gotten the hang of climbing, pouncing upward like a swift-footed fox. I would have been much quicker, but she insisted that I covered her flank while she scoped the area from above.

She did have a unique sort of grace to her, though; her movements were sharp. Limbs jutted out in quick arcs that reminded me of a cat's pounce. Occasionally she would look down at me, as if afraid that I wouldn't be there anymore. I always returned her gaze with a sort of unsmiling tightness, the smears of mud and ash on my face perhaps softening it.

Foxface reached the topmost branch with a visible huff. She was balanced on all fours, shifting her bald head as she scrutinized the scene below her. Abruptly, her body stiffened into stone, her bones and stringy muscles bulging. "...U-Um, Katniss?"

Her voice was brittle, a lofty pitch that was difficult to hear from a distance. It hung in the air with a sort of ghostliness. She was shaking. I could hear it.

My chest iced over in dread. "What is it?"

She keenly averted her eyes from whatever she was looking at to gape down at me. As elevated as she was, I could still make out the panicked churning of her throat. "We're a lot closer than I thought."

Before I even had time to process her sentence, a throwing knife zipped past Foxface's throat and struck the trunk of the tree she was perched in. It missed her by mere centimeters. Her expression warped into something I had never seen on her before—a drained, undisguised knot of white-hot terror, her jaw unlatched and her eyes widened into empty disks.

A wraith of familiar, dark laughter simmered in the distance, skewering my ears like needles. It raked an image to the forefront of my mind—a tribute from District 2, a soldier through and through, his eyes carrying haunted traces of wrath and unshaken blackness that frosted my bones anew.

I strung an arrow into my bow, a flaring reflex. Blood stung like acid as it sang through my veins.

"Sorry I was so quiet, girls!" His voice was alarmingly close. "I just wanted to surprise you."

I glanced around with lightning hysteria, all around me green expanses of unmoving trees. Desperately, I raked my gaze in Foxface's direction again, only to see that she had vanished. The rogue throwing knife marked where she once was, protruding outward like a headstone. A noise of painful shock spouted steamily through my teeth.

"Can you blame me for getting impatient? Having to watch that awful fire of yours with my mouth shut? Now it's all _smiles!_ Smiles for the cameras!" He chortled, followed by the distinct sound of a predator's prowl, making my skin squirm. "The 74th Hunger Games are about to come to a thrilling conclusion!"

My vision blurred. My head whirled. It took every ounce of my will to accept that Foxface had abandoned me and to shake off any lingering feelings of anguish; I should have known not to trust her. I clenched my jaw, my ribcage feeling like spiked ice as I stubbornly collected myself and stormed into the trees, dazedly following the sound of Cato's mirthful laughter.

The bottoms of my feet were pruned and waterlogged; I could feel the bite of skin breaking as I hardily marched on them. My hair sagged behind me in a single, ratty curtain, so thoroughly glued and matted with mud that it scuffed the back of my neck.

I reeled my bow in front of me in blaring arches, breaking the foliage that blocked my path. I could hear a number of footsteps around the forest, including my own, and it made the base of my throat squinch with nauseousness.

I bursted into a clearing the moment traces of light had begun to show through the leaves, wheezing and teetering on my feet. I squinted, and the expanse of my vision hazed into a swathe of sparkling gold.

At first, I thought I was fainting. It took a moment for my eyes to clear and for a discernible image to focus: a large tract of dirt, eroded and wet from the rain and dotted with drooping lines of grass; twenty-four platforms arranged in a mighty circle; a golden horn, its contents spilled and scattered sloppily across the ground; and...

—a boy. A crumpled heap of bloody flesh, dark hair, torn arena clothing. He was shaded by a vast steel canopy, surrounded by a number of crates and heaps of weapons and packaged foods.

My insides lurched. My legs moved anchoredly, acting on their own. My ears were clouded by what seemed like static; it took a moment for me to realize that it was the sound of my own strangled breathing.

Before I knew it, I was crouched next to the boy, turning him over on his back and heatedly stroking his face with muddied hands. My eyes were stinging, lining with hot tears that flicked off my eyelashes and onto the curve of his lips. I tasted rust, my mouth thick and sour as I absently touched his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders. A thousand years seemed to pass before his eyes tiredly fluttered open, flickering like great bright moon crescents.

The liquid in my skull felt like it was boiling. I was shaking so violently, I could hardly tell where my hands were. My throat sharply ached as if it encased a lump of solid lead, yet I still managed to coerce weak snippets of sound through it.

I wasn't aware of what I was saying. Bleary gray eyes, staring at me from the ground, had to steadily help me back to consciousness.

It was one word, repeatedly, a single word carried out on sick, strident whimpers that crashed off my tongue like tearful hail storms: _"Gale."_

* * *

**Chapter 22 will be posted tomorrow. Thanks for everything, and sorry for the cliffhanger!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Welcome to the last full chapter of Two Fires. The epilogue will be posted tomorrow. Thanks for sticking with me for so long!**

* * *

**_The Hunger Games_**** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

**_What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?_**

**_Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen_**

* * *

_ "All the hardest, coldest people you meet were once as soft as water. _

_And that's the tragedy of living." _

—Iain Thomas

* * *

The whites of Gale's eyes were spidered with red, the skin around them smudged with the black of insomnia, carrying purplish, yellowish tints like a bruise. He could hardly keep them open, woozy and queasy and battered. His eyebrows twitched wearily together, and his cracked lips wriggled around a hoarse word; it sounded like "cat-nuh."

Gasping, I set my bow aside and moved to grab his hands, hoping to help him up and move him somewhere safer, more isolated. I saw with crushing revulsion that his wrists and ankles were tied tightly together with wire twine, cutting off circulation and rendering his skin a flaring violet. His hand—the right one—was bent at a grisly angle, and I remembered in a dizzying rush how Cato had jerked his wrist backward and cleanly snapped the bones.

Holding my breath, I skimmed the wire with my trembling fingers, tugging as gently as I could in a vain effort to untie him. He was murmuring gurglingly—probably talking nonsense in his sleep—as I quickly retrieved a nearby knife and tucked the blade underneath the wire coils on his wrists. It wouldn't fit; it was tied too tightly, notching in the swollen flesh of Gale's hands. I managed to saw through it, but I had to cut into his skin as well. Silent apologies died in my mouth.

He was barely conscious, talking incoherently as I wrenched the chopped twine away and laid his newly freed arms at his sides. His words were pleading. They rose and dropped in octaves like a mad hymn. I spared a helpless glance at his face as I made a move to cut the wire around his ankles.

I had just registered his look of agonized distress when I felt the frigid glint of a sword at my throat. Gale's numerous utterances sunk in all at once as I was heaved off the ground and into the clutches of merciless, bulbous arms—he was telling me to run.

"Hey, beautiful," Cato chimed, lips brushing against the hood of my ear, "Sorry, didn't kill Lover Boy yet. I like using live bait." I swallowed and felt the pit of my throat graze the honed edge of his sword.

Gale let out a guttural yell, and it was loud and gruff and sick. Cato tightened his hold on me before kicking him in the head, making him sharply veer over with his face in the mud, motionless.

A scream tangled itself in my compressed throat, seething through my teeth hotly. I felt the sword push against my windpipe. Every move I made, no matter how minuscule, sent it deeper, shallowly slicing my skin and sending my pulse flapping ferociously against my chest.

Cato forcibly tore the quiver of arrows from my shoulders, welting me where the straps splintered apart. His gentle chuckles shadowed over the back of my neck, his balmy puffs of breath entrapping me. I bit down on a yelp of pain, watching as my arrows were tossed away. They rattled like bones in the air.

"Let's go on a little tour around the Cornucopia while we're here," Cato grinned, grabbing my empty hands and holding them in a bloodless knot behind my back. "Don't worry. I'm a very gracious host."

He dragged me viciously backward, flinging me around with effortless abandon. I kicked in protest, but stopped immediately when the sword pressed deeper against my throat. A warm stream of gluey blood pooled at the center of my collarbone.

The heels of my unmoving boots etched two parallel lines in the dirt as I was lugged away from the golden horn and toward a stretch of trees, their gray, leafy canopies floundering sleepily in the gust. They looked like the surface of undulating black waters, and I was drowning in them.

"This," Cato breathily began, gesturing toward the ground with his chin, "is where both the 4's died. Same spot! Kind of romantic, don'tcha think?"

We spun around rapidly enough for my stomach to lurch. My back was pressed flush against the hard expanse of Cato's chest, and I felt his giddy heart beat against my shoulder blades, felt the shuddering vibrations of his torso whenever he talked. I wanted to vomit.

"You see over there, that patch of dirt? That's where Marv and Glim used to sleep. Eat and talk all day there, too. Real cute."

He punted my head to the ball with his shoulder, making a sharp puff of air hiss stingingly out my gullet. "Look there," he demanded, "at the side of the horn."

I tremblingly slumped in Cato's grip; he had to hold my head up with his sword, the tip of my chin resting on the flat face of it. "Look," he repeated, and I dazedly tried to focus my eyes. There was a spot on the horn that was stained with splotches of crusty, flakey maroon—rust, seemingly.

He smiled against my scalp. "That's where Clove cut off her arm. Her pretty little arm! It might still be there if you look! Funny, right?!"

He used the same hand that was holding his sword to forcibly turn my head toward him, making my neck crack. Venomous, hate-filled eyes connected with mine. "I wonder how they're all holdin' up in their caskets."

A rush of blood blared in my eardrums, torrenting through my skull and leaving me dizzy, trembling. I was afraid to move. My breaths came out hard and raggedy, sounding more like muted sobs than anything. Cato's yellow hair stood up like shards of lightning, the savage curve of his lips razor-keen.

He was savoring this—savoring how I was abandoned by my previous ally, how I had failed two others. Tears gathered at the corners of my tired eyes.

_I was so close, _I thought dissonantly, _So close._

A flash of orange filled the murky, blurred pallor of my vision. I widened my eyes, overcome by images of fire, before feeling a jolt from behind. Cato let out a surprised squawk and, with miraculous suddenness, released me from his grip.

I staggered, not used to my own body weight, before craning my neck and peering behind me with aghast eyes.

Foxface had pounced on Cato's back like a wild animal, her tread silent and sly. It was familiar to me now. Her waify arms and legs clung to his meaty frame with iron force, her face screwed tightly with resolve even as he hurled her around.

Cato let out a howl of hostility, letting out a booming string of curses. Foxface opened her maw before fiercely biting down on the crook of his neck with a crunch, drawing blood—frothy red rilling through her teeth and gushing downward.

I coughed into shaking hands—eyes watering, ears ringing. I sputtered out spittles of blood, feeling the gore gush down my chin and out the slit on my neck. It was out of feral instinct that I turned away and frenziedly hobbled over to Gale, trying desperately to keep my knees from buckling, to keep myself from blacking out.

The sounds of Foxface's struggle jabbed me from behind; my mouth was a graveyard for all the words I couldn't say to her in that moment, for all the unexpressed gratitude and fondness I felt bursting in my chest like a fire blossom.

I reached Gale in a flurry of aching muscles and cramping joints, falling bunglingly at his side. I put two fingers on his brow, drawing them backward to check his eyes. His pupils constricted into pinpoints before he began to hack violently.

My body was a mess of strangled, trilling nerves; they were screaming, clattering my bones as I retrieved the knife I had earlier and quickly cut the twine around his ankles. I looked back at Foxface while doing so, inwardly shrieking as I watched her get thrown from Cato's back and hit the dirt in a clump of gyrating limbs. Cato stepped forward and put his boot to her throat, and I immediately heaved myself from the ground, my lungs burning angrily.

I held the same knife I had used to cut Gale free, gripping it lightly between the very tips of my fingers. One eye closed, I aimed directly at Cato's heart. My arm swerved; my wrist flicked. The blade was sent in a roaring reel towards him.

It stuck perfectly, sinking to the handle. Meshworks of blood brimmed around it in thick, heavy globules, and with his last wobbly steps, Cato fell forward onto Foxface, his sword extended out in front of him. It impaled her so quickly that I had only half-processed the shock of it before screeching out a jarring, discordant scream._  
_

The outburst clawed its way out of my throat, leaving my gullet scratched and raw as I rushed over and heaved Cato's twitching body off Foxface. It set the sword askew in her chest, falling over with gross slowness.

Choking back sick sobs, I wrenched the blade out of her, dropping it with a gasp as if it burnt my fingers.

I collapsed onto my knees, clasping her face between my hands. Her yellow eyes had a static-like unsteadiness in their frenzied depths, her pupils blown, her mouth hanging open. She coughed up blood, some of it spattering across the brim of my cheeks.

My palms were shaking against her cold skin. Frantic whispers slurred their way through my unwilling lips—an endless chain of apologies, poison prayers and pleads tumbling from my tongue. "Stay with me," I begged, "Please. _Please._"

Her small, pointed teeth were slicked with red, painting them like murky rubies. She blinked dazedly a few times, eyes wandering and rolling as if unattached from her skull. Her throat churned, swallowing. "F-Fleta," she stammered, "Fleta Rennard."

I stared at her blankly for a moment, my features twisted into a strong, confused grimace. A name?

Cato let out a few gravelly coughs next to us. I whipped my head around in terror, only to see that his expression had entirely changed—blond hair, blue eyes, flushed cheeks, all caked in mud and blood. His azure orbs were as light as the sky, shiny with the threat of tears. His eyebrows were twisted together in what appeared to be fear, and he looked at me with the delicacy of shattered porcelain before diverting his gaze to Foxface.

The pink bow of his lips quiveringly opened and closed a few times, his Adam's apple wobbling next to the bite mark on his neck. "Is she dead?" he asked, still transfixed on Foxface. His voice was quieter than I had ever heard it before.

My mouth was already forming a stern 'no,' but, looking back at her, I saw the withered, wan leather of her face, the emptiness in her eyes.

A scathing puff of air punched its way out of my lungs. Cato made a similar noise.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, a simple statement that made him tremble all over. His hands twitched at the knife in his chest, and I stared at him wide-eyed, incredulous. I continued staring at him until his movements slowed, until his muscles were still and deadened.

It was quiet. Not even the wind carried a single speck of sound. The absence made my ears ring—a buzzy din that stabbed its way throughout my entire body.

Two corpses were laid out in front of me, close enough to touch. They were fresh enough to still radiate warmth, young enough to not bear a single wrinkle.

I felt an overwhelming sickness as I stood up, an ache that made underlit sunbursts dot my vision. I felt boneless, stunned beyond the point of sensation. My joints seemed to creak as I turned my head to look at Gale.

He was lying on his back, chest rising and falling weakly. His eyes looked at me sideways, the fingers of his unbroken left hand sunken into the dirt as if he had tried to claw his way over to me.

Gulping, I crouched down and took Cato's sword into my hands. The blade was splashed with wet blood.

Unsteady on my feet, I numbly looked back at Gale. I watched his eyes widen in realization and horror before I plunged the sword deep into my abdomen.

* * *

**I know I've been talking about it a lot, but if you're even remotely interested in what happened to the Careers or Marvel's backstory in particular, you should check out one of my other fics, Only You. It's a oneshot, and it summarizes Two Fires from Marvel's POV. It offers a lot of important insight to the plot, I think.**

**REGARDING FOXFACE'S NAME: I did some research prior to writing that bit. I was going to leave it out because of all the disagreement that centers around it, but I thought it was an important closing statement for her character. That being said, I took the liberty of crafting something sort of different from the usual theories: Fleta Rennard. Fleta (meaning swift) and Rennard (meaning fox, bravery, and strong decisions).**

**Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!**


	23. Epilogue

**_The Hunger Games_**** belongs to Suzanne Collins.**

* * *

**_What if Gale, overtaken by the grief of seeing his oldest friend about to be swept into the monstrosity that is the Hunger Games, volunteered for Peeta and took his place?_**

**_Gale Hawthorne x Katniss Everdeen_**

* * *

_"I have been smashed and put back together so many times._

_Nothing works right,_

_Nothing is where it should be,_

_Heavy thumping in my shoulder where my heart now beats."_

—Elizabeth Scott

* * *

"—she's unstable! Stop the bleeding, get the—"

* * *

"—infections. We're going to need to transplant multiple—"

* * *

"Katniss Everdeen of District 12, Victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games, if you can hear m—"

* * *

"She's unresponsive. Get her to intensive care! Do it qui—"

* * *

"—blood is stale, old, not clotting, hook her up on th—"

* * *

"District 12. District 12, hello? If you can—I saw her blink! She blin—"

* * *

"Stop crowdin' her! The girl's heart just started working again, for cryin' out loud!"

"Mr. Abernathy, we're going to have to ask you to leave the room."

"Leave the room, my ass! That's my tribute you're cuttin' into, and I'll be damned before I let the Capitol b—"

* * *

"Sweetheart?"

* * *

"Sweetheart, please. Wake up."

* * *

"Wake up."

* * *

_"Wake up." _

_The words were carried on frosty breath, swirling across my skin with the lingering coldness of mashed mint leaves. Icicle fingertips delicately crooned my heavy eyelids, barely making contact, barely there. They dipped downward, a sigh of touch against the hollows of my face._

_Sitting up was like sprouting wings and hovering without a trace of effort. The soarness in my body was replaced by complete numbness; it was the kind that felt like fluff in my muscles, like a shot of morphling sinking into the scruff of my neck._

_Through heavy eyelids I saw a source of white glow—a face. Darkness pooled in the shadows under his cheekbones. Quicksilver highlights fingered the bow of his lips, the borders of his eyes. Through bristled eyelashes were blue irises—_impossibly _blue. They put all the skies and oceans in the world to shame, and they looked at me achingly. _

_"Katniss?" His voice was like static whispers. "What are you doing here?"_

_The individual details of him sank in lazily, as if my mind was too exhausted to process them. It took a few moments for me to see his black hair, his strong brow, his sharp jawline._

_"Marvel," I said. And that was that. It was a statement of fact, not a greeting. It was cold and numb like the anesthetized deadness I felt flooding stagnantly in my core._

_"Yes. I'm surprised you remember." His mouth drew tight in dismay, his pupils shrinking until they pierced me like pinpoints. "Now tell me. _What_ are you doing here?"_

_I exhaled slowly, and it drained me of more than breath. My lips parted in preparation to reply, but I didn't seem to be able to speak anymore. _

_Marvel seemed to be growing more panicked by the second, his eyebrows furrowing angrily together and his shoulders tensing. "This doesn't make any sense," he quaked, "You won, Katniss! You w—"_

_His voice halted with a throaty, pained choke, and I abruptly felt the distinct chill of a steel bow in my hands. I looked down to see a wooden arrow jutting out of Marvel's chest, his trembling fingers hovering around it. _

_A shriek tangled itself in the knotted coils of my vocal cords, hurting like a swallowed blade. I dropped my bow and immediately moved to pull the arrow out of his shaking ribcage, only for it to turn into the rubber hilt of a knife the moment I touched it. _

_Stunned, I peered upward to see a round, ebony face and slanted, tear-coated eyes. High-pitched hiccups as melodious as the sad warbles of a raven slashed at my eardrums. _

_Her name caught in my mouth, tasting of copper and acid—Rue._

_I tugged the knife out—the sounds it made against her sliced flesh enough to nauseate me—and firmly pressed my palm against her wound in an attempt to control the bleeding. My head was whirling, the once calm sensation of numbness quickly turning into something that physically hurt. I felt heavy, dense; stiff like a corpse._

_My vision blackened, and suddenly, I was pinned to the ground. I was able to make out tufts of red hair and yellow eyes in the darkness for a fleeting second before feeling an excruciating pain in the crook of my neck. Fangs sunk into my flesh, and the numbness faded, leaving me to flail in agony. My mouth gaped open in a silent scream._

_Throbbing, stabbing through my chest in bitter waves—it felt like violent electric shocks. They strangled my heart and roused my pulse until it became rabid. _

_"Wake up."_

* * *

"Wake up."

My eyes flew open, my chest heaving with each of my frenzied gasps. A heart rate monitor beeped loudly and wildly at my side. I thrashed in an attempt to sit up, only to find that I was strapped tightly to what seemed to be a hospital bed.

My wrists were fastened at my sides, and a dozen needles and tubes snaked dizzyingly out of my arms; I immediately thought of the wire twine around Gale's wrists and began screaming. It didn't last long; the pain in my abdomen became excruciating with the strain, and I was reduced to choking back tears and wriggling helplessly.

"Tranquilize her," a calm voice ordered from a distance, and a cool liquid seeped into my veins from one of the needled tubes in my arms.

I was knocked out instantly.

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"Heart rate, fifty-five beats per minute. Breathing is stable. Cholesterol levels a—"

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"—nd she's healthy. Remove all IV's except f—"

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"—esident Snow wants a full body polish on b—"

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"Let her feed herself, dammit! Get that tube out of her!"

"Mr. Abernathy, these things take time. You know that. Please leave the room."

"My _fist_ will take time on your _face_ when I—"

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"Oh, she's beautiful."

"Not a flaw left on her."

"Double-check for scars, remove any—"

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"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I tried to stop them. I tr—"

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"Wake up."

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The first thing I registered was the buzzing din of ceiling lights. I was afraid to move. Slowly, hesitantly, I opened my eyes, staring upward at the soft yellow gleam dawning over me.

It had felt like I was in a strange, continual twilight—always conscious, only slightly. Of course, I knew there was a lag between the end of the games and the presentations of the Victor (they needed to put the starving, filthy, wounded carcass of a person they had plucked from the arena back together again), but I couldn't help but feel the haunting chill of bewilderment hang over me. It almost moved me to tears—I felt the hushed pressure at the back of my eyes, the prickling in my skull.

Where was Gale? Didn't he win? Didn't I make _sure_ that he won? I knew that he would take care of our families. I knew that my mother and Prim would understand. I knew that—in a hopeless situation where we were forced to make a choice—he was the better option.

Gulping, I allowed myself to experimentally move. The pain that was once an agonizing bombshell in my abdomen was now completely absent. I sat up, noticing how only one needle remained in my arm and how my goosebump-cloaked skin met the light flow of a hospital gown. I thought that I was free of my restraints, but one jostle of my legs proved that my ankles were still strapped to the bed. The image of the wire twine around Gale's ankles was like a slap to the face. Were they reminding me on purpose?

I inhaled deeply, smelling something sharp and antiseptic; it stung in my nostrils. I brought my hands up to cover my nose and found that my skin had been—_replaced?_

Where hunting and burn scars once stood was now a pure, glowing, flawless swathe that looked like milky satin. My nails were cleaned and filed into perfect crescents, sloping like the moon.

Suddenly very dizzy, I tentatively touched the skin of my neck. Smooth. As if nothing happened.

After running my fingers through my hair and finding nothing but newly silken strands, I punched my fists into the mattress of the hospital bed, gripping the covers and choking back sobs.

They didn't just fix me.

They changed me.

They _changed_ me.

A soft beeping sound followed by the keen grind of machinations caught my ear. I turned in the direction of it, terrified, only to see that a portion of the wall had slid open, revealing the red-headed Avox girl with a tray in her hands. She stepped in with an air of apologetic empathy, the bow of her lips pursed with worry and her eyes flashing with silent messages. I winced automatically when she set the tray on my thighs—a reflex from the arena, no doubt.

My eyes fell on the tray dazedly. It had a bowl of brown broth, four crackers laid out on a napkin, a glass of water, and a sealed cup of applesauce. The Avox handed me a spoon, and I glanced up at her as I took it. I must have looked particularly crestfallen because she gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze afterward.

"Thank y—" I began to say, biting down on the words once I realized that we were probably being closely monitored. After a shaky pause, I briskly nodded at her—just a slight twitch in my neck. She nodded back, a sad smile on the white pallor of her face, before turning on her heel and exiting the room.

Before eating, I weaved the stem of the spoon steadily between my fingers, its silver expanse blinking in the light. I studied my blurred reflection in it, noting how the basic features of my face were untouched. Of course, I thought, they still wanted me to be recognizable.

Still, I couldn't seem to be able to get rid of the lump in my throat; I had to swallow around it as I dejectedly ate my homecoming meal.

After I had finished and set the tray aside, the cool liquid began to trickle into my veins again. It was like ice, a liquid hypothermia skulking itself through my body, and it dragged me into the depths of unconsciousness once again. I fell backwards and hit my pillow with a thump.

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"—can't believe you let them do this to her, Effie."

"Haymitch. _Believe_ me when I say it's in her best interest. You went through it, too. Remember when you won?"

"I've been trying to forget."

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The next time I woke up, it was with a jolt—a lightning strike that bursted in my stomach and traveled into my mouth. I sat up, panting, just in time to see the last needle be uprooted from the fleshy bed of my arm. A looming Capitolite quickly brushed a waxy substance over the small, bleeding pucker of skin the needle left. He smelled of copper. He turned away before I could study his face, wheeling away a cart of what looked like numerous medical instruments with him.

The moment he exited, I checked to see if my ankles were still restrained. They weren't. My heart did a cheery somersault as I tossed my legs over the edge of the bed and began to stand up.

Abruptly, the wall slid open again, revealing a hunched-over man in a loose dress shirt and slacks. His gray hair hung in tousled strands next to the point of his chin, and peppered stubble framed his worry-wrinkled mouth like stars.

My heart swelled painfully at the sight of him. "Haymitch," I choked, and he took long, urgent strides toward me. He reached out his arms, and I almost thought he was going to hug me, but instead he took my hand and lightly flicked my wrist with his index finger—not nearly hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave me staring.

"What?" I started. "Was that a punishment? Was that a—_child's_ punishment?"

He nodded resolutely, trying desperately to appear stern, but he couldn't for the life of him hide the softness in his twinkling eyes. "You're damn right it was a punishment," he grumbled, and I never thought I would miss such a rough voice. He continued—"You deserve it! You had me worried sick! I must have lost ten years of my life watching you dawdle out there, making every possible mistake you could, I can't believe how stupid you were, strong girl like you should know better"—and I couldn't help but smile as he endlessly scolded me.

"Like you did any better," I accused, arching a brow, "Stale bread? Really, Haymitch? You decide to send out a parachute, and it has _stale bread_ in it?"

"It was a message!"

"It was your leftovers from lunch! Two years ago!"

And suddenly, we were laughing together. Any outside observer would think that we were fighting, but I could discern the true meaning in his words: _I'm sorry you had to go through that. __I'm glad you're alright._

We sat on the edge of the bed, and I could tell by the tightness in his shoulders that the environment put him on edge. I wanted to ask him a million questions, but I was silenced by the hidden cameras and microphones in the walls. I chose my words carefully; I knew he would understand me regardless.

"What happened to my wounds?" _What did they do to me?_

"Full body polish. Surgical alterations. It's customary." _They did it to me, too._

"How's everything back home?" _Did they hurt my family?_

"Completely ordinary. Ready for you to come back." _They're all safe. Don't worry._

I took a deep breath, bracing myself. "Never heard those last cannons. That's kind of strange, don't you think?" _Gale. Tell me about Gale.  
_

"Cannons don't go off unless you're a certain amount of feet away from the...bodies," he swallowed hard, staring at the ground with hardened eyes, "The one you got upset over? It was District 11's. The boy's." _It wasn't Gale's._

I exhaled sharply. _I know that. I saw him alive, remember? Before I..._

"District 5 female and District 2 male died. You...You died, too."

I paused, widening my eyes. Haymitch wasn't talking cryptically anymore. This part he could say out loud.

"And Gale." His chest deflated with a sigh, and he very purposefully avoided my gaze. "He died, too."

_"What?"_ I hissed, and suddenly I felt as if I was fainting, as if that icy poison was being injected into my quivering veins again.

"You both died." Haymitch reached into his pocket, fishing out his flask. He didn't drink from it. He just held onto it, untwisting and twisting the cap. "After you stabbed yourself, Gale didn't even hesitate. Took a throwing knife from the kit next to him and just..." He thumped the bottom of the flask against his knee. "Right into his heart."

"W-Why would he...?"

Haymitch turned his head to look me firmly in the eye. "Love." _Rebellion._

I bit the inside of my mouth until the sure taste of blood twinged against my tastebuds. I nodded, my neck rigid.

Haymitch let out a long, lulling breath, his gravelly voice twisting through the room. "So. There wasn't a Victor. Everyone died. All twenty-four of you. Four cannons went off, and the screens went black."

He got up then, fiddling ardently with his flask. There was no sloshing sound, and I realized that it must have been empty. Did he just carry it around for comfort?

One of his hands went to his chin, scratching his stubble thoughtfully as he lingered idly about. "Everything went to chaos. The Gamemakers decided on the fly to save the tribute that lasted the longest. They checked your trackers. Checked the exact time your pulses stopped. It was down to the absolute millisecond." He paused in his steps, craning his neck to look at me with flashing eyes. "You and Gale died at _exactly _the same time. Exactly."

I visibly blanched at that, my face prickling as blood drained from it. "He's alive, then?" I asked, my voice strangled and my head light from the quickening of my pulse. "Gale is alive?"

Haymitch grinned, his teeth wolfy. Just as he was opening his mouth to answer, a number of noises echoed from behind the walls. Surprised, high-pitched shrieks and the clattering of fallen equipment surrounded us, all followed by two pairs of booming footsteps. One was noticeably more hollow, as if coming from high-heels.

_"Haymiiitch!"_ a feminine voice squealed. I recognized it as Effie's. "I tried to stop him! Help me! He's out of control! No manners! Oh, how _embarrassing!"_

I raised my eyebrows in absolute puzzlement.

"Katniss?!" A gruff voice yelled out. And my bones turned to absolute mush, my heart swaying and my stomach squelching.

It was Gale's voice. _Gale's voice._ Gale. Gale. "_Gale!_ I'm here! I'm in here!" I shot up from the bed, running over to where the walls shifted open and pounding on it with closed fists. "I'm here!"

The barrier slid aside, leaving me to punch at empty air. Breaths wheezed through my throat as I woozily ambled out of the room. "Gale?!"

Pivoting on my heel, I saw him—clean, healthy...running. He was running at me. Soon, he had me in his arms. He picked me up and spun me around, smiling and laughing so hard that he choked.

"Katniss," he whispered into my hair, followed by a noise of pained, strangled longing. He pressed his lips onto mine, and they somehow tasted like pine and acorns and sunshine—like home. The kiss only stopped because I couldn't help but stretch my lips into a shaking smile. The tips of our noses pressed lightly together, our tearful gazes locked.

"We won. We _won_." His breaths were uneven and frantic, his gray eyes glossy and bright. "It's over."

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******Okay, so...This ended up being less of an epilogue and more of a chapter in and of itself. Oops! **

******I'm so sad about how strict the formatting is on this website. The dialogue doesn't exactly have the effect I wanted it to. It would have been better if each of the quotes had its own page. I did make a compromise with the rows of ellipses, though. You should count how many there are in each section, by the way. ;)**

**And, hahaha, sorry, I'm such a sucker for dream sequences. I always try not to do them unnecessarily, though. And this one is sort of special! It has elements of the medical procedures Katniss was undergoing in the real world—shots of morphling, electric shots to the heart, etc.**

**You should also know that I toyed with the idea of making Cato and Foxface survive as well. That was the original plan! There would be not two, but four victors. I eventually decided that that would be too sloppy, even with everyone dying. Only one district can win, after all. I'm a little sad that it didn't pull through, though. Cato and Foxface are so interesting, and I would have loved to get the opportunity to make their characters more deep and complex.**

**Anyway! I do have the first chapter and a plot outline done for a sequel, but I'm beginning to wonder if it's worth writing. I cut the conclusion short for this story so that a majority of the loose ends are tied, and a lot of people seemed to have moved on from this story and the Hunger Games fandom in general. I don't know. Would anyone even read it?**


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